All That Glitters
by sillynekorobs
Summary: AU/AR. Jak is a prince, Daxter a slave. Seems simple enough. But is there more to this mysterious slave than meets the eye, and does Jak have what it takes to see it? Jak x human Daxter.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** This one is for the lovely Sione, a great friend as well as a talented artist and highly respected fellow author. She's such a dear. I sincerely hope she enjoys it, and I hope everyone else who reads it might like it a little bit too (even if it is my first attempt at a Jak & Daxter AU).

**Characters:** Jak, Daxter, and all the rest belong to Naughty Dog, Inc. I just have fun shaking up their world from time to time… or all the time, rather.

**For your info: **As far as AU's go, in theory this one is pretty similar to the actual game world. For example, there are still Precursors, wastelands, metal heads, and eco. Just think 'Jak 3 looks and setting with a quasi-fairytale twist' and you'll be fine.

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It was late afternoon in the desert kingdom of Spargus when Jak was rudely awoken from his catnap. He started as a small rock pinged off the lens of his goggles, coming fully awake at once. This could be bad. Had somebody found out his favorite napping spot? Looking down through the leaves of the big tree he was camped in, the green-blonde soon let out a sigh of relief.

"Good. It's just you."

In the sun-dappled patch of shade below, Daxter grinned wryly up at him. Who else would it be? The redhead was still the only one who could routinely find Jak when he slipped away to gods knew where, to the ire of his father and the palace officials.

Jak sat up on the thick bough he had been draped across for his snooze, stretching mightily with bare arms over his head. "What's up, Dax? Wanna come up and have a nap with me?"

An eager look flashed across the smaller boy's freckled face, but only for a moment before Daxter shrugged ruefully.

"We can't? What, am I late for something again?"

With somehow sarcastic politeness Daxter gestured out of the little glade, hidden among bushes, tree trunks, and flowering shrubs. The rest of the palace gardens were awash in golden sunlight. By the length of the shadows out on the grass, Jak could clearly see what time it was. He had completely missed his late morning history lesson with Samos. He had missed lunch. He had missed afternoon drills with Torn. And he was late for the audience his father had requested of him.

"Damn." One mild curse would have to suffice. Jak easily swung down from the high limb, landing effortlessly next to his friend. Not that he wanted to, but the longer he put it off the worse the consequences would be down the road. Besides, Daxter would take the heat if he returned without the truant in tow. Jak certainly didn't want that. "Guess we'll just have to find another time to hang out. Sometime after everyone's done screaming at me."

The little redhead laughed silently, long ears flicking to and fro. Jak smiled. Daxter might be unable to speak, but he sure was expressive enough. Sometimes Jak could swear he knew exactly what the other was thinking. He reached out to throw a companionable arm across thin shoulders.

"Well, I better get moving. Dad will be mad enough as it is. Can you come with me?"

Daxter nodded amiably, the thick gold collar around his neck glinting in a stray sunbeam slanting through the foliage as he did so. Apparently he hadn't been given any instructions past "find that hopelessly irresponsible boy." Jak was glad. They hadn't been able to spend much time together lately.

"Good. Let's take the long way."

Rather than heading directly across the gardens and into the main building, the two climbed the long flight of stone stairs leading up to the wall that surrounded the entire palace complex. Or rather, Jak climbed. Daxter did nothing so much as scamper to the top in quick little bursts that never failed to amaze his bigger companion. The little guy was remarkably fast, and incredibly light on his feet.  
"Give me a chance, will you?" Jak laughed as Daxter skipped tauntingly up the steps just ahead of him. He knew better by now than to challenge races, despite how much longer his own legs were.

Their pace slowed as they reached the top. Jak was in no particular hurry, and the view from the wall top was impressive, as usual. Casually he ambled along, Daxter at his side, surveying the somewhat hostile domain.

The city of Spargus sprawled before them in all its dusty, rough and tumble glory. A few homes, a few taverns, a few shops. A lot of military barracks. The imposing structure of the Arena, Spargus' chief source of both entertainment and capital punishment. A peaceful community, they were not. Past the city stood another, larger, wall. Past that protective barrier, the unforgiving wastelands.

Jak glanced back down into the gardens, taking a moment to be thankful for the small green oasis they provided. While napping in the quiet shade, it was possible to forget that one's home was surrounded on all sides by blistering desert. He and Daxter could hide away there from time to time, relax and share a little snack that one of them—usually the redhead—had swiped from the kitchens.

The hot sun beat down, urging Jak to wrap his headscarf over his face for a little protection. It was a bright red strip of fabric, ratty and tattered, but it was his favorite and was seldom anywhere but draped around his neck. He decided to forgo it this time, however. They would be out of the sun shortly.

Jak shielded sharp blue eyes, gazing out across the wastes. "Another scorcher, huh, Dax?"

The redhead nodded absently, obviously intent on something else. On his tiptoes to see over the stone parapet, he too was gazing... but not at the city. Daxter's own equally blue eyes were fixed much farther away. Across the far horizon a line of mountains stretched, dark and majestic against the burning foreground of parched sand and rock. Jak looked too, and couldn't help but frown a little.

The mountains. A cooler, greener, richer land where he had never been, and where Daxter had surely come from.

There were very few real slaves in Spargus. Nearly all of them were prisoners of battle that for one reason or another were never sent to the Arena to win their freedom or released through any other means. And none of them had come to city quite like Daxter had. It had been... what, three years ago now? Nearly four? Jak could still recall the incident quite clearly.

"Something special for the king," Samos had said, when he had returned from a long bout of travel in the legendarily mystic mountains with a struggling young redhead in chains. Of course, the old Court Sage's accompaniment of royal guards had been the ones to keep the boy under control. He twisted, squirmed, bit and kicked like a monster despite the manacles and other fetters. They couldn't keep him bound forever, though, and King Damas had needed the soldiers elsewhere, so the boy had been turned loose to acclimatize to a new life of servitude.

Jak had been all of fifteen at the time and the new, extremely unwilling, addition to the palace staff had looked even younger. To his never-ending annoyance, all the other boys Jak's age saluted when he walked by. He didn't know what was supposed be so special about the fiery-haired kid sobbing hopelessly in the corner, but he did see potential—someone who might become a real friend. Added to that, he had felt plain bad for the new slave. Obviously the boy was unused to captivity of any kind. Jak had even tried to remove the redhead's heavy collar for him at the other's franticly mimed pleas, only to be immediately knocked in the head by Samos and his ever-present walking staff.

"Don't you take that off of him, my boy," the sage had growled darkly. "_Never_ take it off. There's something very strange about this brat that even I haven't been able to fathom yet. If he ever gets free the consequences could be dire."

Jak still had no idea what Samos had been talking about, but that had settled that. The collar had stayed on, despite its wearer's pitiful snivels and whimpers. But that didn't deter Jak from his mission of good will. With Damas preoccupied with other things more often than not, the green-blonde had been left to his own devices; namely, making sure his mysterious new 'friend' choked down enough food in his misery so as not to starve to death. He began to eat on his own soon enough, of course. But then the escape attempts had started.

Jak chuckled quietly. Dax was damn lucky he had been so young and small. Runaways were usually given the Arena treatment after just one offense, and Daxter had tried to bolt... it was impossible to remember how many times. One of the last times he had made the attempt had found him running hopeless circles in the maze-like gardens like a frightened dune hare. He and Jak had literally run smack into each other, in the small glade they would eventually come to see as their secret place. Of course Jak hadn't called his friend out. They had hidden quietly in the tiny grove, sheltered underneath what Jak now considered to be his napping tree, until the searchers finally gave up. It had also been Jak's presence at the meek redhead's side when they finally turned up hours later that saved the miscreant from a real beating. Samos' patience with the matter had been wearing dangerously thin by that point.

From then on Jak had been protective. He gave the redhead a name when it became apparent that he couldn't speak to tell Jak what he was called. He had given his newly christened Daxter a shoulder to sniffle on when he needed it, permission to roam the main palace grounds at will (as long as he didn't try to run away again), and a pair of hand-me-down goggles to wear when the blowing sand became extreme, as it often tended to. After that Daxter wore the metal and leather gear on top of his head at all times, almost a match to the bigger pair Jak himself now wore.

All that had been a long time ago, now. Daxter did not actively pine anymore. Time heals all wounds, or so the saying went. But Jak wasn't naive enough to believe that his friend would ever forget whatever it was he had been forced to leave behind. Dax would never be completely at home, completely content, in Spargus.

A soft sigh from the redhead caught Jak's wandering attention. He went over to stand beside his friend, sharing the view. Dax himself was lovely scenery, to Jak. The green-blonde smiled as a gust of hot wind off the wastelands blew sunset hair into even further disarray, and reflexively reached out to pet the locks back into place.

"Come on, Dax. Better get moving."

Reluctantly Daxter nodded. Turning away from the sight of the mountains, he followed Jak back down the steps and across the dusty parade grounds, abandoned in the heat of the day. Their next stop was the palace itself. Jak could only hope that the confrontation awaiting him inside wouldn't take too long.

**- // - // - // - // -**

The throne room was cool, quiet, and dim at this time of day. All the royal audiences had been finished much earlier in the morning. Even Damas was strangely absent. Jak's booted footsteps echoed loudly on the stone floor while Daxter padded soundlessly in simple cloth foot wraps.

"Huh." Jak was unimpressed. "I'm not _that _late. The least he could do is be here in time to lecture me."

Daxter just shrugged. It was highly likely that he didn't give a damn where the king of Spargus was, so long as he wasn't nearby. It was no secret that Damas scared the redhead. Hell, Damas scared a lot of people. He was a formidable man. Jak, however, considered himself exempt from intimidation. The guy _was_ his father, after all, and if he ever carried through with any of the threats he so casually threw in Jak's direction during periods of seething annoyance with his only offspring the kingdom would be heirless in the blink of an eye.

"Looks like we're waiting, then. C'mon, Dax. Pull up a seat."

Jak collapsed backwards to slouch insolently upon the large rock-hewn throne at the head of the room and pulled the redhead to him by the length of rope that served as a belt. Daxter let out a quiet squeak of surprise and protest that Jak cheerfully ignored, grabbing his smaller friend around his slim waist and hauling him into his lap.

Daxter immediately put up a struggle, squirming and wriggling, trying to push away with his hands planted on Jak's broad chest. The green-blond just laughed at his friend's obvious annoyance.

"Come on now, Dax, only for a minute. You can stand being my lap pet for that long, can't you?"

An irritated snort. One long finger firmly flicked Jak in the middle of the forehead.

"I am not an idiot!" Jak pretended to be offended. "And this is the thanks I get for being so nice to you all the time..."

Seated sideways across Jak's lap, Daxter offered a smug half-smile that showed the barest hint of slightly bigger than average front teeth. His ears flicked saucily as he turned his head away, obviously snubbing his teasing captor. Clearly he was no one's pet. He might not actively try to escape his situation of perpetual servitude anymore, but that original spirit of defiance was far from gone.

"Well, excuse me for presuming I might have some special privileges." Jak couldn't help but grin. He just adored this little guy. Dax was endlessly amusing. "You know, I've heard of slaves happily _jumping_ into their masters' laps when they're treated well, and I don't get any favors at all. You're so ungrateful, Daxter."

The redhead was now laughing silently in wry amusement, keeping Jak from getting too comfortable with a boney elbow braced on his shoulder. Ungrateful, indeed!

It was actually pretty wonderful to be able to laugh and tease like that with someone. And Dax was a pleasantly slight weight in his lap, warm and inviting. Yep... one day, when Jak was in charge, this was all he would do, all day long. He couldn't resist. Stealthily he leaned up, one hand coming up behind Daxter's neck to hold him still. Just one little kiss wouldn't hurt anything...

"Get the hell out of my chair, boy!" Damas bellowed. For a relatively large man he could walk amazingly quietly when he wanted to.

Jak shot to his feet as though he had been burned, keeping a tight hold on Daxter. For his part, the shocked redhead reflexively grabbed onto Jak and clung like a sand burr. His eyes were hilariously wide, ears laid back as far as they could go.

"You know no one sits on that throne but the king," Damas growled in annoyance. "I must have told you that a hundred times. And put _that_ down!" He was pointing at Daxter.

"Damn it, Dad, don't sneak up on people! It's rude." Jak immediately set the redhead back on his feet, nudging the smaller boy behind him somewhat as he did so. Out of sight, out of mind. Damas had been finding excuses to keep them apart as of late; he didn't need one more.

"Some people would consider it rude to stand your father up when he asks to see you." The king huffily took his rightful seat, still looking perturbed that someone else's rear had been resting on it. "Let me dare to presume you were asleep in the garden again, shirking your duties without a care in the world?"

"I... might have been. But it isn't like I missed anything important."

Damas sighed deeply, leaning back on his throne and wearily massaging his temples. "Jak, please. You would not believe how tired I am of having this conversation with you. You're a _prince_. Try to act like one and show a little responsibility for your duties!"

"Oh, and where were you all afternoon doing big important kingly things? Hanging out with your harem?"

"Trying desperately to father another boy child so I can finally throw your impossible punk ass out into the desert where it belongs without destroying the royal bloodline in the process," Damas replied calmly.

"Good luck with that. You're pretty old... you'll probably need it."

"Not too old to chase you down with this belt, brat!"

Even though arguments of that type were common it was better to be safe than sorry, and Jak prudently backed up a few steps as his father threateningly half-rose from his seat. He nearly tripped over Daxter, who had been hiding behind him and shaking with suppressed mirth.

"Okay, alright, I'm sorry. I'll try to do better. Can I go now?" He had better places to be, better things to do. Dax hadn't darted off at the first sign of impending trouble, so Jak still harbored the fond hope that he might yet be able to coax him into a kiss, away from prying eyes.

"No, you may not. Believe it or not there is a very serious matter I wanted to discuss with you. But since you didn't see fit to meet me on time we'll have to have this talk over dinner, and until then you will not leave my sight. Understood?"

Damn it. No chance of sneaking off now. "Fine, I understand. But can Daxter come to dinner?"

The redhead peeked out from behind Jak hopefully.

"Of course he can. He can do what servants do at dinner, and _serve_." Both young men seemed to wilt under the decision. "Now come along, Jak. And you." He snapped his fingers at Daxter. "Get to the kitchens and find something to do."

Jak held back a grumble as Daxter left his side with a sigh and a reluctant nod, headed for the palace kitchens. Even though he occasionally wished the redhead was more clingy, more like a normal, willing subordinate ready to please, Jak knew it would have killed him to see his friend cringe and scrape. The little guy had moxie, that was for sure. None of the other servants, let alone the real slaves, would dare turn their back on King Damas without bowing first. The concept of reverence seemed to escape Dax entirely, and for some reason he was allowed to get away with not showing it.

"You know, Dad, he_ is_ my friend. Could you maybe, I don't know... _not_ order him around like that?" The irritated sarcasm flowed thick as Daxter trudged out of the throne room and Damas beckoned Jak to follow as he did likewise.

"Oh, of course. My humblest apologies." Damas snorted. "Jak, he's a _slave_. Their purpose is to be ordered around. I swear, where do you get these ideas... you'll be nicely asking Samos to let him go free next. Now, forget about it and get over here. We're going to consult with Commander Torn about your amazing lack of attendance at drills lately."

Perfect. Exactly what he needed, crap from his dad _and_ crap from Torn, the dreadlocked and perpetually scowling leader of the Spargian military troops. With a strangled groan Jak squared his shoulders and obeyed, trailing after his father. This was not going to be a pleasant affair, but at least he had dinner and seeing Daxter again to look forward to.

**- // - // - // - // -**

Dinner was, as usual, a relatively simple affair. Damas, Jak, and Samos sat at a small table at the head of the large dining hall, while the officers, soldiers, and a few nobles sat at various other long, bench-lined tables around the room. Unable for once to eat and run, Jak was glad of the distraction Daxter provided.

"Boy, another biscuit!" Samos hollered.

Daxter obligingly handed over a honeyed biscuit from the basket he had been stationed with at the start of the meal. Jak chuckled silently; as soon as the Court Sage's back was turned, the redhead happily stuffed one of the sweet treats into his own mouth. There was a reason he wasn't normally ordered to serve at mealtimes.

The monotony of the situation was further helped when Keira slipped into the seat beside her father. "Good evening, everyone. Sorry I'm late."

She didn't look sorry in the least, Jak noted. She looked tired, dusty, and quite happy as she accepted a biscuit from Daxter, who had by that time singlehandedly nibbled away half the contents of the basket without anyone but Jak noticing. Keira had probably been out prowling the city without permission again, the green-blonde suspected. Samos would shit a brick if he really knew what his darling daughter got up to all day.

Indeed, the sage began to fuss over her immediately. "Keira, sweetheart, there you are! I was beginning to get worried. And oh, goodness, what in the world is this you're wearing? You look like a common city girl!"

Keira dusted daintily at her patched overalls and Wastelander's cloak. "Daddy, for goodness sake. It's not like I have to impress anyone. Jak doesn't care. He looks more like a commoner than me."

Jak glanced down at his dingy tan-colored pants, dirty boots, sleeveless blue tunic, and mismatched pieces of miscellaneous armor. "What's wrong with my clothes? At least I look better than Dad does. He's like a walking armory and taxidermy display stand."

Damas warningly cleared his throat. "What we're dressed in is not important, Samos. Our clothing is meant to withstand battle and the elements, not win fashion awards. That goes for all Spargians. Now, Jak. Since you seem to be done eating and ready to talk, I need you to pay attention and listen to me for a moment."

"Is this that big, important thing you wanted to discuss?"

"Yes." The king nodded solemnly, a very serious and quite noble look creeping into his eyes and across his strong features.

Jak promptly tuned out. Instead he turned his attention to the much more interesting affair of watching the light of various candles, torches, and eco-lights shine on Daxter's red hair. Covertly he slipped the smaller boy a candied nut from his own plate, which Dax readily accepted. Apparently his dislike of the whole 'pet' business did not extend to refusing tasty handouts.

"As you know, Jak," Damas began somberly, "long ago, when you were only a small child, I ruled far away in a city called Haven. Those were happy times. We were peaceful and prosperous. But then I was betrayed by my trusted companion, Praxis. He led a rebellion among the soldiers, and I was forced into exile along with those still loyal to me."

_If he admits I already know all this, why is he repeating it?_ Jak wondered absently. Old men could sure get to like the sound of their own important-ish voices. Unconcerned, Jak covertly stuck his tongue out at Keira, a time-honored dinner table tradition they had been practicing behind their fathers' backs since toddlerhood. Grinning, she thumbed her nose and returned the gesture across the table. Daxter hid a silent laugh in his sleeve. Damas, as usual, failed to notice.

"It's a shame you had to be raised out here, Jak, away from our ancestral kingdom. However, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Possibly through sheer dumb luck and decent genetics, you've grown into a strapping young man. Even Torn agrees you're one of the best rookie soldiers we have. Full of unlimited potential, if you would just put forth a little effort to keep improving."

All this drama for another lecture. Typical. Jak narrowly resisted the urge to start spinning his silverware. His eyes followed Daxter almost of their own will as his father droned on.

"But now, my slacking son, you will have the perfect chance to prove your ability. Spargus will soon be in very grave danger. Praxis wants me defeated once and for all, the line of rightful rulers destroyed. At this very moment his army is marching across the wastelands, led by his most devious general. But I tell you, Jak, Spargus will not fall! We will turn the tables on that madman, and then—!"

Jak wasn't really listening to what promised to become a full-on rant. His father had often been known to overreact. When Daxter stepped up beside his seat and offered a pitcher of wine, the green-blonde gladly held out his cup. It was amusing to see how hard the redhead concentrated on pouring out just the right amount for his friend from the heavy container, one eye squinted shut and tongue trapped between his teeth as he carefully tipped the pitcher.

When he was done, not a drop spilled, Jak nodded his thanks and reached out to lightly tickle Daxter under the chin. Dax's ears went back as if he were about to swat the hand away in protest, but almost immediately he was smiling slightly and leaning into the touch with eyes falling half-lidded in pleasure. Jak had no idea why, but the little guy had always liked his chin and behind his ears scratched. It was cute as hell—almost like an animal habit of some sort.

Jak couldn't help it, really. The redhead made him feel like no one else could, playfully amorous and carefree. He grinned and reached higher to affectionately pet Daxter's smoothly freckled cheek, using his thumb to gently wipe off a few stubborn biscuit crumbs clinging at the corner of the redhead's mouth. Dax tried to lick them off at the same time, but before Jak could chuckle at the warm tongue accidentally touching his hand—

"Knock that off this instant!!" Damas thundered, slamming a massive fist down onto the table.

Plates and silverware rattled alarmingly under the force of the blow. Both Jak and Daxter jumped in surprise at the outburst, Jak rocketing back to reality as the wine pitcher slipped out of the redhead's hands in his shock. Daxter scrambled to catch it, fumbling but only managing to slosh the wine over his hands and shirt. Moments later the heavy pitcher, made of molded and baked clay, hit the stone floor of the dining hall with a loud crash.

Jak winced. Keira cringed. No way was this going to turn out well.

Daxter's ears hung low and disheartened as the splashed wine dripped down Jak's boots. He shifted from one smudged and dusty foot to the other sheepishly, eyes downcast. What he was trying to say was perfectly clear. _Sorry. It wasn't on purpose._

Samos glared pointedly as his favorite vintage trickled across the flagstones. "And this is why I advised that the little miscreant not be given serving duty..."

Jak ignored the sage and turned instead to his unhappy friend. "Hey, it's okay, Dax," he said soothingly, grabbing a linen napkin from the table. "It's no big deal. We'll get this all cleaned up in no time and—"

"Jak, what in all the hells is wrong with you?" Damas demanded on a growl. He too was glaring, but not at the spilled wine.

"What?!" Jak demanded.

"What? What do you mean, what? I just told you we're on the brink of being invaded, and you're off in La-La Land! Now pay attention to me, damn it, and let that boy do his job!"

"Yeah, in a minute," Jak growled right back. Turning his back to his father he caught Daxter's hands in his own and began to help wipe off the dripping red liquid. Now Dax would be all sticky and uncomfortable; it wasn't like anyone went out of their way to make sure the slaves got to do their own laundry on a regular basis. Damn it, this was all because of Damas' stupid temper...

Abruptly the king of Spargus surged out of his seat. "I have had just about enough of this."

Faced with such a menacing spectacle, one that was quite possibly out to rain down correctional violence upon his relatively small person, Daxter positively quailed. Jak jumped to his feet in an instant, placing himself silently but very firmly between his father and his best friend. The accident hadn't been Daxter's fault! Even if it took a coup d'eta to prevent it, Jak wasn't going to let Damas touch a single red hair on the little guy's head. Hands clutching rather desperately at the back of his tunic as Dax hid behind him let the prince know that the effort in his defense was much appreciated.

"This ends tonight," Damas promised darkly. He strode around the table and up to Jak until they were almost nose to nose; they would have been, had Jak been just a bit taller. A thick finger landed in the middle of the green-blonde's chest and pressed hard as the king laid it on the line. "I don't know what exactly is going on between you and this little brat, Jak, but it's going to stop. I want you to take him, fuck him, and get the hell over it already!"

Jak froze, ears twitching upright in pure shock. He certainly hadn't been expecting _that_. "Uh... come again?"

"You heard me, little mister. You can't concentrate on anything lately, and he—" he jabbed the finger at the small form still hiding behind Jak "—is the reason why. Well, I want it over with! Take tonight to get whatever this is out of your system, and get your thoughts back on what's really important around here. Like, say, the fate of our kingdom!"

"Really?" Jak almost couldn't believe it. He couldn't be that lucky. "You won't care? You're serious?"

"Damn straight I'm serious." Damas pulled back to scan the table nearest theirs. "You! Come here for a moment."

One of Torn's top officers immediately rose from the table's long bench and came to attend the king. Jak noticed that it was Sig, a huge but good-tempered man that he had admired since childhood and considered a friend of sorts. He was satisfied; Sig would be kind enough when dealing with Daxter.

"Your highness?"

"Take this boy up to the servants' quarters and see to it that they make him as close to presentable as possible," Damas instructed, effortlessly fishing the startled redhead out from behind Jak by the back of his ragged shirt. "A bit less like a street beggar and a bit more like the consort of a prince, if that can be managed. I'm aware they don't exactly have much to work with. Then take him up to Jak's rooms. And better make sure he doesn't get the smart idea to tiptoe out once he gets there, hmm?"

"Yes, your highness." Sig saluted smartly, no hint of what he thought about the command showing in his voice or demeanor. He was all military business. "Come on, kiddo. Let's go." The big man took Daxter by the arm as Damas shoved the redhead forward.

"Go on, Dax," Jak encouraged as Daxter looked beseechingly at him, the beginnings of real worry showing clearly in his blue eyes. "It'll be alright. No one's going to hurt you. I'll be up a little later, okay?"

Daxter did not seem reassured in the slightest. He made a grab for Jak as Sig escorted him by, letting out a reluctant little whine as his fingers brushed the green-blonde's tunic but did not secure a grip. He drug his feet, but Sig was much, much stronger. The redhead was finally pulled out of the room, still looking back over his shoulder uncertainly.

When they had gone and some semblance of order reigned once again, Keira gave Jak a stern stare from across the table. She crossed her arms over her chest disapprovingly. "You're terrible. Don't you have any shame at all?"

"Should I have?" Jak was feeling cocky. He wanted to preen. So what if most of the dining hall had just heard him be granted a pleasure slave for the evening? The prince was used to being publicly given nice presents, and this seemed like the most awesome gift yet.

"Uh, yeah! Didn't you see him? He was scared to death, poor thing."

Jak felt the briefest twinge of uncertainty, but quickly dismissed it. Daxter would never be afraid of him. The very idea of it was just silly. "Nah, I bet he's just nervous. He'll calm down and be fine after a while."

"Uh-huh." She looked entirely unconvinced. "De-nial."

"While we're on the subject," Samos interjected testily, cutting off Jak's response. "This thing with the slave. It's not going to have any merit on the fact that you and Keira will be married at the winter festival next year." It was less a question than a pointed reminder.

"No, of course not."

Duh. He and Keira had known they were intended for each other since they had been about nine years old. The two also knew that together they would be a formidable ruling force. Unless something drastic happened between now and then the marriage would go through without a peep of protest from either friend—they just wouldn't care what sort of dalliances the other had on the side. There would be much less courtly drama in their lives that way, something both Jak and Keira were looking forward to immensely considering what their fathers put them through on a daily basis.

The sage harrumphed, fiddling with his mismatched spectacles. "That's all well and good then, I suppose. So long as nothing so much as a finger gets laid on my baby before her wedding night! Better the slave boy taking the brunt of raging teenage hormones than—"

"Don't be crude, Daddy." Keira cut him off with a calm napkin to the face. Jak just snickered. Samos was a well-known prude.

Damas sighed. He looked like he had a headache coming on. "If you two are really done with dinner, you are excused. Jak, I know this is asking the impossible, but I want you to at least _try_ and spend the remainder of the evening on something constructive. Practice your sword drills. Take a moment to think about what I said! Spargus will need your strength if we're going to win against Praxis." He paused for a long moment, then caught his son's attention once more. "Oh, yes. And, Jak?"

"Yeah?"

"After tonight." The growling voice became even lower and more threatening. "One way or another, I will see to it that you will have absolutely nothing more to do with that little redhead. So make sure you take this opportunity to enjoy yourself."

Jak offered a mock salute. Whatever the big dude in charge needed to believe. "Of course, Dad. Whatever you say. Thanks for dinner, see you tomorrow, bye!"

"Hey, wait!" Barely bothering to nod respectfully to her father and the king, Keira was up and after Jak as he quickly made tracks out of the hall. "Jak, wait for me! I have to tell you something!"

"Just watch yourself, Jak!" Samos yelled after their retreating figures. "And whatever you do, do _not_ take that boy's collar off! Are you listening to me?!" There was no response to the warning. Jak and Keira had already disappeared. The sage grumbled moodily as he settled back into his chair. "Remind me again why anyone bothers to have children..."  
Damas massaged his pounding temples tiredly. "Tell me about it."

- // - // - // - // -

"Jak, please slow down! You're not really going up there right this second, are you?"

The green-blonde finally deigned to slow his pace so Keira could keep up without jogging. "No. I'm going to the armory for some practice, like Dad said. It'll take the servants at least 'til sundown to get Dax a change of clothes ready, anyway."

"Well, you better practice long and hard while you're down there. The invasion threat is real, you know."

Somehow, Jak was much more inclined to heed Keira's matter-of-fact declaration than his aging warrior-father's apoplectic ranting. He slowed to a stop, facing her in the dark passage. "How do you know that?"

"Simple. I keep my eyes and ears open down in the city. I was at the traders' market today—the big one they hold once every few months, where even some of the less bloodthirsty Marauders come?"  
"Yeah, I know it. It's pretty rough down there."

"Oh, pffft. And I'm a pretty tough girl. Anyway, I got to chatting with this one guy I've never seen around here before. Very handsome, in that dark and slightly disturbed way." She polished her nails on the front of her overalls with an air of triumph. "His name was Erol. I charmed the pants off him, if I do say so myself. Apparently he's seen Praxis' army on the move, Jak. He told me they have enough manpower to raze Spargus to the ground—warned me to get out of the city if I value my life. Really nice guy, actually."

The tactical gears in Jak's mind were already turning. He wasn't an entirely worthless future ruler, after all, despite his father's fears. "Good. If he talked to you once, odds are good he'll talk to you again. The market lasts two more days, right? Go back tomorrow and try to find him. See if he can tell you anything else. Exactly how many troops Praxis has, what kind of weapons, how many supplies, how fast they're marching; anything that will help."

"I had already planned on it. I'm wearing that really low cut top, too."

Jak smiled. "You know, sometimes I think I should be grateful our dads are roping us to each other for all eternity. You'll be a pretty conniving queen."

Keira grinned right back. "Ha! Someone's got to be there to take responsibility for your stunts. Admit it, the Kingdom of Mar would be doomed without me." Satisfied with getting in the last word, Keira sauntered off. Halfway down the corridor, though, she paused and turned back. "In all seriousness, Jak. Just remember to be nice to Daxter tonight, huh?"

Jak managed to look offended. "What? I _am_ nice. I'm really nice! When I'm not, you know. Hunting metalheads or killing people in battle."

"Yeah, you're nice, but you're also enthusiastic. Don't forget yourself, be too rough, and break your new toy the first time you play with it."

"Thank you, mom. Have fun on your date tomorrow."

With that the two went their separate ways. Jak, true to his word, made for the armory and his favorite sword. However, all thoughts of the impending invasion attempt and the battle it would bring were forcefully evicted from the forefront of his mind as he traversed the palace. He could think about the serious side of life tomorrow morning.

Nothing was going to ruin tonight for him, not if he had anything to say about it.

_Just a little longer. Just a little while longer and I can go up there and we'll—_

The tingle of anticipation was strong. Finally! At last he could shower on Daxter all the physical affection he wanted without the negative repercussions of it coming back on Dax ten times harder than they would on Jak. His long wait for just such an opportunity, the many half-formed fancies, the sometimes bitter confusion and longing he felt to make the little guy more than just a subordinate he was friendly with; it was all about to become redundant. Jak was, after all, a prince, and princes were rarely denied something that they desired.

Now if he could only occupy those couple hours until sunset...

- // - // - // - // -

They had barely passed the doors of the dining hall when Daxter began to struggle in earnest. He bent and twisted in Sig's strong grip as he was led deeper into the palace, dragging his feet and tugging back in the opposite direction as he was pulled along. The soldier lectured him thoroughly.

"None'a that, now, little fella. We're going whether you like it or not, so you might as well make this easy on yourself and—ouch! Damn it all!"

The redhead had bitten his arm. With the bigger man's hold on him loosened somewhat Daxter tried to run, but Sig caught up to him in three massive strides and had him firmly back in custody in seconds.

"Come on, kid, I'm just doing my job!" he said almost pleadingly. "Do us both a favor and cooperate!"

Dax went totally limp, falling to the floor at Sig's feet. The exasperated soldier was left holding the wrist of what appeared to be a completely unresponsive body.

"Oh, like I'm honestly gonna fall for that. And I'm not gonna drag you up there, either, so it looks like we're doing this the hard way."

In one heave Sig bent, grabbed, and hoisted the redhead over his shoulder like a sack of turnips. Given the sheer size and weight differences between them, it was no huge feat. Realizing his mistake Daxter began to thrash and kick in desperation, whining incessantly. It had no effect whatsoever on Sig, who strode onward as if he wasn't carting an extremely unwilling passenger.

"Just hold yer horses, cherry. We'll be there in no time." Suddenly Sig's voice faltered and he broke his stride the smallest bit. "Well... I dunno if 'cherry' is gonna be the most appropriate thing to say, considering..."

At the comment Daxter froze in evident shock, then went limp for a second time on a defeated whimper. Seemingly worn out, panting faintly, he stayed draped over his captor's broad shoulder without further protest. Oh, this sucked. It sucked so very hard.

"I hear ya on that, kiddo." Sig was frowning now. "Ya know, I've known Jak since he was two feet tall, and I'd have never expected him to be the kind who'd do somethin' like this. It's a little disappointing, actually. Thought for sure my little chili pepper was better than forcing somebody who didn't want it."

Aided by Daxter's apparent surrender and subsequent placid behavior, soon they had arrived at their destination of the servants' wing. This time, however, rather than trying to get away from Sig, the redhead refused to let go when the big man tried to deposit him once more on the floor. He hung on the big soldier's arm, staring up at him pleadingly.

"Come on, now... don't look at me like that." Sig patted his head awkwardly. "I really do feel for you, little guy, but it's not my place to help you out. I'd be shackled in the Arena first thing tomorrow morning if I let you go, and even if I did you'd never get outside the palace grounds without getting caught."

Daxter sighed forlornly. It seemed he knew that well enough by now. He sagged under Sig's huge hand ruffling his hair.

"Cheer up, cherry. Like I said, the more you cooperate the better this will probably go for you. Let's just..." Sig stepped past his meek charge to knock authoritatively at the door to the head servant's room. When he turned back, however, the redhead was gone. "What the—?!"

Daxter was flying back up the corridor at a dead sprint, running as if his virtue was at stake. Which, coincidentally, it was.

"Hey! Get the hell back here!"

Snarling under his breath at the unfairness of it all—this had _so_ not been on the contract when he had signed on—Sig charged after the fleeing slave, beginning what was to become a thirty minute chase. Only when Daxter had been caught for the second time that evening and delivered, with instructions, into the hands of three of the more able-bodied servants did Sig pause to lean against the stone wall, panting heavily. That little sucker was fast!

"Don't... don't you hurt him, now," he ordered wisely as the thrashing, growling redhead was manhandled in the direction of the washrooms. "Prince Jak will be mighty pissed if you rough his little pal." A few of the hired help from around the mostly-hostile outlying desert weren't exactly patience or sympathy incarnate. The threat of royal ire hanging over them would probably go a lot farther to ensuring Daxter's well being than anything Sig could say to them.

"Oww! Shit, boss, I think he just gave me a black eye!"

"Hold his arms better, then! Damn it, I said hold him!"

"Don't worry about it, he'll get his back if he tries to fight the prince this way. Maybe the gods have a sense of humor and Jak will forget the lube, huh boys?"

Sig winced at the raucous laughter, then at the howl of pain as Daxter managed to land an infuriated kick right where it counted. The soldier had serious doubts about leaving the redhead alone with those guys. However, there wasn't much more he could do. He had already carried out his orders; he could only hope the servants would carry out theirs without any undue cruelty. With an uncomfortable half shrug, Sig turned away from the struggle and began the walk back to whatever might be left of his interrupted dinner.

"Good luck, cherry. I hope you don't need it."

- // - // - // - // -

To be continued...

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**(2nd)AN**: Ahh... that first finished work of the summer. Now, I know that was a little different, but I hope you enjoyed it a little anyway. As usual, this is posted on adult fanfiction as well--that version will be more explicit. Check it out if you're of age and so inclined. So, the next chapter of this fic—wherein we find out just what Daxter's fate will be. Is Jak really going to be such a jerk?! Find out next time!

And now, something special, just 'cause Sione asked so nicely. Outtakes!

- - - - -

Jak: Hey, Dax! Wanna climb up and have a nap with me?

Dax: (nods eagerly)

Jak: No, wait a second, I better come down there. Sex in a tree could get awkward.

Dax: (balks, then sniffles) //That's all you want me for, isn't it...?//

- - - - -

Jak: Good luck with that... you're pretty old.

Damas: Not too old to chase you down with this belt, brat!

Jak: (backs up and trips over Daxter) Whoa!

Damas: (pounces) *smack smack smack smack!!* Victory!!

- - - - -

Damas: Sig! Get over here a moment.

Sig: Yes your highness? (salutes)

Damas: I want you to... is that a chicken wing in your hand?

Sig: Uh, he-heh... (tosses the wing)

Torn: Oww! Dear God, my eye~!! Who threw that?!

- - - - -


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** This chapter should go fast. To make it go faster, I'll skip the boring author's note.

**Characters:** Everybody belongs to Naughty Dog. I'm just using them for a while. I make no money from writing this.

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Promptly at sunset Jak was on his way up to his room. He had a plate in one hand, the result of a quick trip down to the kitchens. On it was a sandwich and a few slices of fruit. Daxter would like the fruit, Jak was sure. It was hard to come by in Spargus and not many got to enjoy it that didn't also enjoy titles of some sort. The redhead deserved a treat; he hadn't gotten any real dinner to speak of.

Jak took the stairs two at a time, careful not to drop his offering, and cut through the quiet halls until he arrived in front of his own room. This was it. He reached for the door immediately... and then paused. There was a key hanging from the doorknob by a bright red ribbon. Puzzled, Jak tugged it off and looked it over in the dim light. It wasn't a key to the room—he had one of those tied to his belt, and anyway his room was never locked from the inside unless he himself was in there feeling unsociable.

"Huh. Whatever."

Stuffing the mystery key into his pocket, Jak carefully cracked open the door. For all he knew Daxter might have decided to take a nap while he waited, and it wouldn't do to disturb him quite yet. Slowly Jak peered inside, smiling a little despite himself at the thought of Dax peacefully curled up on his big bed, drowsing among the soft, fluffy pillows.

An unidentified flying object very nearly took out his eye. Jak jerked his head back in the nick of time as something shiny and circular struck the frame of the door and fell to the stone floor with a loud metallic clatter. Far from being innocently napping, apparently the room's inmate was throwing stuff.

"What the hell?! Dax, it's just me!"

Crouched on the bed, the redhead paused for a split second before forcefully hurling something larger. This time Jak actually had to duck back out of the room and pull the door shut behind him. He stood in the hall, completely amazed, as whatever had been thrown stuck the other side of the heavy wood with an earsplitting clang. What in the world had got into his friend? He had seen that the intruder was only Jak, and tried to hit him anyway!

There were a few moments of blessed silence. Very, very cautiously Jak peeked back inside. He had to determine if the suddenly volatile redhead had any more projectiles in hand before he could venture back in there.

It appeared that Daxter didn't. Abandoning the offensive, the smaller boy had retreated to the very head of the bed and now looked to be trying to hide himself behind a fold of curtain hanging down from the canopy. He was only half succeeding.

Jak sighed in relief. He nudged the door open wider and stepped back inside, glancing down to see what had been used for missiles. A decorative brass urn that had been on a small table next to the bed rolled to a stop near the toe of Jak's boot. Its matching lid was somewhat farther away. The vessel's contents, the childhood pebble collection that he had never bothered to throw back outdoors, were scattered all over the floor.

"Jeez, Dax, were you trying to kill me?" Less than amused, the green-blonde kicked the urn out of the way and firmly shut the door. "I know I'm late, but it's really not my fault. Look, I even brought you a snack, see?"

Daxter didn't seem any happier when Jak held out the plate. As he walked toward the bed the slave glared, ducking back behind the midnight blue velvet of the bed curtain. Obviously he was quite sore about something.

Jak sighed. This would have to be fixed. He sat the plate of food on the bedside table and came closer. Coming up to the side of the bed, he reached out to tug the curtain away. "Dax? Come on, please don't be like that. I got up here as soon as I—"

As soon as his hand touched the curtain Daxter shot out from behind it. He didn't get far, though. There was a rattle and thump, and an instant later the redhead was jerked to a stop with a pained gasp. Jak just stared. A sparkling golden line, no longer than the prince's own arm, secured Daxter's collar to the bars of the headboard.

"They chained you up."

Jak couldn't believe it. Someone had taken it upon themselves to put a chain on his friend. Not Sig—he was much too kindhearted for such a method. One of the servants, then. Whoever had done it, they had probably thought they were so smart, making sure he couldn't get away like this. Well, Jak would see how smart they felt when he got his hands around their neck! If Daxter had panicked and tried too hard to get free he might have actually managed to strangle himself.

Without thinking Jak grabbed the chain. It was decently thick, but gold was softer than most metal. He could bust it off easy enough. Before he could try, however, Dax was lunging forward and taking a swing at him. The restraint kept him far enough away that the blow never hit home, but Jak was stunned nevertheless.

"Daxter, stop! I never meant for this to happen! Hold still, I'll fix it." He reached out again. The redhead would have none of it.

Dax pulled away this time, as far from Jak as the chain would allow. There he sat among the pillows, knees drawn up tight to his chest and arms locked around his legs, giving Jak the most hurt and betrayed look imaginable. His body language was crystal clear. _Don't. Touch. Me._

Jak forced himself to be still and stay unthreateningly at the edge of the bed. This was all wrong. What had his little friend so worked up that he wouldn't even allow Jak to touch him to take off that gods-awful chain? It was almost like Dax thought Jak was going to hurt him, or something.

Wait.

Maybe he really thought that...?

"Dax?"

The redhead looked pointedly in the other direction, ears laid back to their extreme. His intentions of giving the prince the continual cold shoulder were obvious.

"Hey, come on and look at me. Please, Daxter?"

It took some cajoling, but blue eyes finally flickered back Jak's way. It was more of a fearful glare than anything, but Jak was still hopeful. "Dax. Did you think I was really going to... do what my dad told me to do to you? Without even asking you?"

Daxter cocked his head, obviously surprised at the question but still clearly distrustful. He kept his gaze warily on Jak, not dropping his defensive posture, and nodded once, very curtly. Abruptly the green-blonde honestly felt a little sick. His friend genuinely thought he meant to rape him.

_Well, can I really blame him? _Jak thought bitterly. _I had to agree to it downstairs to keep Dad satisfied. Of course Dax can't have known I was just bluffing, that I was going to make sure he was okay with it first. Then they drag him up here, chain him up, leave him alone in my bed… what else is he going to assume?_

In truth, the redhead did look perfectly ready to be ravished. He had been given a wash and brush, Jak could tell, and the clothes Dax had no doubt been shoved into by force looked like something from Jak's own princely wardrobe—bright, ruby red silk and soft, cream colored cotton with gold accents that matched the subtle streaks in his fiery hair. Added to the picture, his ever-present collar and the matching gold chain keeping him anchored to the bed made what was supposed to be going on that night between master and slave all the more obvious.

Jak swallowed unconsciously. Dax did look awfully good when he was all prettied up, for a skinny freckled boy with a little bit of an overbite. And he was all Jak's.

Suddenly the enormity of the situation hit home. The redhead was completely helpless. At his mercy. He was so much smaller, and restrained at that—Jak could probably pin him to the mattress with a minimum of effort. And he was a slave. No better than _property_. Jak could do whatever the hell he wanted to the other boy and in the eyes of everyone else there would be nothing wrong with it. It would be his right.

But... it wouldn't be right to Jak.

Daxter was still watching him closely as he sat there on the edge of the bed, no doubt wondering what the hell his suddenly silent, motionless jailer was up to. His head cocked quizzically to the side as the young slave studied Jak, ears perking the slightest bit in his curiosity.

Slave. It was only a title. Daxter was a _person_, not a thing. A living, breathing, thinking, reasoning, feeling human being. That he didn't happen to be in the power position here was mere coincidence, in the grand scheme of things. Hell, Dax could even be royalty himself for all the green-blonde knew—Jak never had managed to coax the story of the other boy's origins out of Samos, and Dax sure couldn't tell him anything.

Most importantly of all, Daxter was his friend. Unlike most everyone else the little redhead didn't see an authority figure when he looked at Jak, someone to be feared and respected. He saw someone who had been kind to him in an unknown and mostly unfriendly place. Someone who would protect him, not harm him. At least… he had seen it that way until now.

"Daxter, listen." Jak finally spoke up, breaking the tense silence. He spoke quietly, soothingly, and somehow it was as easy for him as it was strange when he addressed the reassuring words to his still-frightened companion. "I swear to the Precursors, I'm not going to hurt you. I won't even touch you if you don't want me to. Now, I'm going to take that chain off. You gonna be still and not hit me?"

There was no response to the query, so Jak logically assumed he had the go-ahead. Apparently it was the wrong assumption to make. He leaned forward and reached out for the other, glancing down as he did so to fish the suddenly remembered key out of his pocket. Now that he thought about it, surely it fit the lock that connected the chain to Daxter's collar. However, taking his eyes off the redhead turned out to be a bad choice.

As Jak's hand came nearer Daxter tensed, shrinking away as much as he was able. When his back finally fetched up against the headboard of the bed, leaving him with nowhere else to go and unwelcome touch creeping ever nearer, he did arguably the only thing one could do under the circumstances. He bit.

Jak bellowed in shock and pain, jerking back so suddenly that he dropped the key. Daxter dove to the side with a sharp snap of chain links, wide eyed at the surprising volume of Jak's reaction. Clearly he hadn't expected his self-defense to be quite so effective.

"That _hurt_, you little ass!"

Jak dove. Here he was being all nice and understanding, going against everything he had ever been taught about the privileges of royalty and simply taking what he wanted, and this was the thanks he got? Why that ungrateful little—!

Even as he went down, Daxter put up a good fight. A hard kick connected with Jak's ribs and a fist barely missed his face when he threw the struggling redhead to the mattress. Fingernails raked down his bare arm and grazed a long ear before he was able to wrap his hands around both flailing, stick-thin wrists and trap them firmly against the bed above Daxter's head. From there it was a simple matter of pinning the thrashing slave with his body weight; not a significantly difficult maneuver.

"Knock it off, Daxter!" he snarled as the other continued to squirm as much as he was able under Jak's much heavier body.

Their faces were inches apart. Jak could literally hear the redhead gulp, feel the shift as he abruptly tried to lean back further into the covers. From the suddenly very nervous look on the redhead's face, Jak was pretty sure he had never seen the prince truly mad before. It was a rather intimidating sight.

Jak fought back a triumphant smirk. Dax was damn lucky he did have a working conscience. The temptation to take what he wanted flared suddenly, bright at the thrill of victory and the dull pain in his bitten hand, sore ribs and numerous stinging scratches. And he did want. Daxter's body pressed tight under his. Their panted breaths, deep after the frantic tussle, mingled. This was the perfect opportunity to assert his dominance, if he were so inclined.

Daxter knew it. He was all out of cards to play. After long moments blue eyes looked down and away from Jak's own, defeated, then closed, resigned. The barest of quiet whimpers escaped the redhead and, with a last deep breath, he went still.

The predator in Jak cooled immediately when he felt the fight go out of his opponent. He did not relax his grip on the wrists he held, though, merely shifting his hold to keep them trapped in one hand instead of two. Letting your guard down in any situation was foolish, as strong teeth on his skin had rudely reminded him just minutes before. Keeping the trembling, cringing redhead spread beneath him, Jak lowered his free hand and—grabbed for the key almost lost among the rumpled bedclothes.

"I said that I am not. Going. To hurt. You. And I would really, _really_ appreciate it if you would return the favor and not hurt me. Alright?"

Daxter's eyes popped open once more at the almost conversational tone. He stared up at Jak, amazed, as the prince proceeded not to grope at him, but to bring the key back into his line of sight.

"That's right. You see this? I wasn't lying when I said I'd take that chain off. And I wasn't lying downstairs when I said no one would hurt you. That includes me. Nobody's getting forced tonight, so just calm down."

After a few moments of silent contemplation, the redhead finally relaxed minutely. He turned his head meekly when Jak nudged at his chin, allowing the prince access to the locked latch at the back of his neck. His breathing began to even out as the chain fell away with a quiet snap and clank, leaving him caught only by his position underneath Jak's larger bulk.

Jak couldn't resist petting his hand once through that vibrant, though mussed, red hair as Daxter's pounding heart began to slow right beneath his own. Poor kid really must have been scared to death. Now that he'd had a chance to cool down himself from that little rush of pain-induced anger, Jak could actually feel proud of his little buddy. Standing up for himself like that. A fighting spirit like that would impress any Spargian.

"Okay, I'm letting you up now. No hitting, kicking, biting, scratching, or throwing. Got it?"

Daxter nodded quickly, eyes big and hopeful. Very carefully Jak sat up, taking his weight off in small increments just to make sure nothing funny would be tried. Nothing was. At last he let go of the smaller boy's wrists and sat back, giving Dax space.

The slave popped upright immediately but didn't make any attempt to run. He simply sat where he was, surrounded by scattered pillows, rubbing absently at his wrists and staring at Jak. Jak stayed near the foot of the bed, staring right back. This moment would make or break their friendship, he knew. The evening hadn't turned out anything like he had planned; now all he could do was hope things weren't totally ruined between himself and the redhead.

"Don't forget about your snack," Jak said quietly after a long while, and gestured to the little table and the plate he had unthinkingly dropped on it. "It's good. Bet you're still hungry, huh?"

That seemed to do the trick. After another long pause Daxter carefully rose to his hands and knees and crawled the small distance to the side of the bed. Ignoring the sandwich he went straight for the fruit—Jak had somehow known he would. He nibbled at it, still keeping one wary eye on the prince but overall seeming much calmer. It appeared that Jak's peace offering had been accepted.

The green-blonde smiled as he watched half the apple slices disappear in quick succession. "Good?"

A flippant shrug was all the response he got. Jak had to chuckle. The redhead's composure had been utterly destroyed, his pride miffed to the extreme. Of course he wasn't going to be handing out full forgiveness, let alone compliments on Jak's choice of snack foods. Satisfied that at least his friend wasn't too distressed to eat, he felt alright turning a bit of his focus to other things.

Momentarily taking his attention off of his companion, the prince gingerly flexed his injured hand. Hopefully that wouldn't affect his performance in the upcoming battle that much…

A soft sound of inquiry made Jak glance up once more. He was startled to find Daxter perched much closer to him now, barely an arm's length away. The little brat could move so soft and quiet sometimes that it was unfair. Despite his surprise at the stealthy move, though, Jak couldn't help but smile in relief. If he had gotten that near, close enough to be easily grabbed if worse came to worse, then that must mean that Daxter was willing to trust him again—if even a little.

The redhead was looking pointedly at his hand.

"Forget about it. It doesn't hurt that bad. Besides, I think we're even. I scared you, you bit me. We're all squared up now."

Hanging his feet off the edge of the mattress, Daxter scooted even closer while obviously trying to look unconcerned about it. Maybe he was craving reassurance of a different type…? Jak didn't dare presume to hope. Instead he kept playing it cool, examining his own hand further.

"You know, you're tougher than you look. My sword hand might be out of commission for a while thanks to you. Way to go, little guy."

Daxter's puff of pride was visible. He smirked, and his ears flicked with smug satisfaction. It was cute as hell.

"Hey, don't look so happy with yourself. I still don't think I deserved this. I come up here with a nice treat for you, all set to be really, _really_ nice—I was planning to seduce you, not violate you, you know."

A snort of dismissal. Jak grinned.

"It's true. I was going to do it all the right way, before a certain someone went berserk on me. Sweet words, lots of kisses, cute little you back in my lap… Hey, no pushing!"

All Jak could take away from the hard shove at his upper arm was the fact that even though he might have been trying not to, Daxter was grinning back. Oh, was that ever a welcome sight. And they were almost shoulder to shoulder now, Dax sitting right beside Jak as if nothing had ever happened to make him doubt his safety there. Very, very cautiously, the green-blonde raised a careful arm and placed it lightly around the smaller boy's thin shoulders. Daxter did not shrug it away.

_Oh Precursors, thank you. _

Gently Jak tightened the arm in a reassuring squeeze, then let the contact fall. He didn't want to push his luck. Winning himself back into the other's good graces was top priority now. Daxter, however, seemed disinclined to let it be at that. The redhead leaned in closer as Jak tried to draw back, letting out a quiet sigh as his head rested against the prince's shoulder. Jak raised a brow in wonder. Maybe his friend needed a bit more reassurance after all.

With the smallest nudge of encouragement Daxter turned and leaned against Jak fully. Jak, in turn, put his arm back where it so obviously belonged, taking care all the same to make sure that Dax didn't feel trapped in any way. He could pull back whenever he wanted to.

Jak petted his friend's hair, shoulders, upper back, all as unthreateningly as he could. This was something they were both used to, from way back when Daxter had first been brought into the palace. The young prince had been the only one he would even let near him then, let alone comfort him physically like this. At the time Jak had found it to be how he imagined consoling a younger brother might feel. Now, however…

"You really do look great like that, Dax." It was small talk, idle chatter to keep the redhead calm and relaxed. As much as Daxter tried to hide it, Jak knew he loved being paid compliments. "Those clothes are perfect for you." He had always wanted to supply his friend with some better garments, but had been afraid of the other slaves and servants growing jealous and taking out any anger at the apparent favoritism on Daxter. "Did you get a chance to look in the mirror?"

Daxter shook his head slightly but didn't seem too overly concerned by the fact. Maybe at this point he didn't really care too much how he looked, as long as violent trespasses on his person weren't on the agenda for the evening. Jak continued patting and petting soothingly, running his fingers through Dax's hair. Wait a second… something was missing.

"Where are your goggles?"

At the question the redhead sat bolt upright, a look of utter annoyance and anger on his face. He began to mime frantically, intent on showing Jak just what had happened—being pushed and shoved, someone knocking off his goggles and taking them away, pulling off his clothes and dousing him with water. By the end of the energetic display Jak had no further questions as to why Dax had been intent on throwing something at the next person who violated his personal space.

"Wow." Again the green-blonde felt that twinge of guilt. "I really am sorry about all that, Dax. It won't happen again. We'll find your goggles, too." He brushed lightly at his friend's slightly flushed cheek. "Hey, I didn't accidentally knock you in the face a minute ago, did I? It's really red right here."

With a shrug, Daxter rolled his eyes and acted out a hand slapping his face. Obviously it hadn't been Jak at all.

"Oh, really." The prince's eyes narrowed. "Do you remember who it was that hit you?" A nod. "Could you point the dirty bastard out to me later?" Another nod, this time accompanied by a small grin. Dax knew when he was being stood up for.

Jak sighed as his shoulder was happily nuzzled by that same red cheek, a clear show of thanks. This night just kept getting better and better. He needed a warm bath. After another few minutes of silent thought, he spoke up. "Alright, Dax. You can stay here and finish eating, okay? I'm going to go wash up."

Looking to put a little more distance between them, Jak got to his feet. He tried to ignore the confused expression on the redhead's freckled face. Damn it. He had finally convinced Daxter that he wasn't going to touch him inappropriately that night and even managed to keep himself from fantasizing about that very thing. Well, mostly kept himself from fantasizing. And now here the little brat was cozying up to Jak in gratitude and making his hands want to wander.

Dax watched him as he moved to the large chest against one wall to collect some cleaner, softer, looser articles of clothing of the type suitable to be worn to bed. Just sat, and watched. Nothing more.

Jak took one last look at the redhead as he crossed to the adjoining bathroom. Before he pulled the door closed behind him, he saw Daxter unconcernedly dig back into his plate of snacks. Smiling faintly, the prince turned away.

- / - / - / - / -

Daxter wasted no time working his way through the food. He ate the sandwich first, which was very good, and quickly moved to the remainder of the fruit, which was even better. He hadn't had fruit since before—well, he wouldn't go there.

When he was done it was logically time to explore the princely suite. Jak had left him alone and unsupervised, so obviously that meant that he had the okay to poke around. There wasn't really much to see, as the redhead soon discovered.

The room was sparse, as most rooms of the palace were. Damas was not big on frills, even in their living quarters. The drawers and chests held mostly clothing. The walls were mostly decorated with weapons. A small and obviously much loved stuffed animal tucked away in one trunk did give Daxter pause. He petted its vaguely dog-shaped form, amused, before moving on. What else could he do? He had never been in this area before and the urge to slink and explore was always present. However…

Jak had neglected to lock him in. The door to the outer hall was shut, but that was all. He could slip out at any point and be halfway across the palace before Jak even had a chance to get out of the bath and discover he was gone.

The slave glanced from the bathroom door to the bedroom door and back again. He lingered there a long while. Caught almost perfectly in the middle he weighed his options, shuffled a bit, and took the first step toward a big decision.

- / - / - / - / -

Jak took his time running the bath water. He brushed his hair to remove any stray bits of sand, and even threw a handful of dried desert flowers into the deep stone tub for the sweet, calming fragrance they would lend to the water. Aromatherapy at its best. He could do with a little calming down at the moment.

He felt protective. Possessive. Still horny as hell. And he couldn't do a damn thing about it at this point. If he made another move on the redhead he would be effectively dropping a guillotine on their friendship; it was pretty clear by now that Daxter wanted nothing to do with him after all, at least on the romantic or sexual fronts. Now not only would Jak not get any flirting, etcetera in with the redhead that night, he probably wouldn't even get to spend time of any kind with him.

_Dax is smart enough to figure out that I didn't lock the door_, he thought gloomily as he stripped. _Realize I left him an out. He's probably already finished his food and snuck away by now. _

Then there was also Damas' threat to keep them apart from tomorrow morning onward that he had to worry about.

_Great. Now I've got *two* big problems. I'll have to try and find Dax tomorrow morning before Dad does… but how will I do that when Dad will be looking for me, too, to tackle this stupid invasion issue? Damn it. Life should not be this complicated._

Lost in thought, sunk up to the armpits in warm, sudsy water, Jak didn't notice as the doorknob silently began to turn. He did notice the squeak of the heavy wood as it slowly eased open, though. Hardly daring to wonder, the prince glanced up.

A freckled face topped with a shock of red and orange peeked in. One bright blue eye regarded him inquisitively.

Slowly, a big smile stretched across Jak's face. "Hey, Dax."

- // - // - // - // -

To be continued…

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**(2****nd****)AN:** The next chapter will be longer. This was just a very good place to pause. At any rate, it seems that Jak has made his decision between one night of dubiously-consensual sex and a lifetime of Daxter's friendship. But what happens now?

Outtakes happen now, that's what!

- - - - -

Jak: Dax, quit it! Stop throwing— (is smoked by the urn)—oww…

*thud*

Daxter: … //Damn it, now who's gonna let me loose?! Didn't think that one through very well.//

- - - - -

Jak: (has Dax pinned to the bed) Um. Do I really have to make the right choice here?

Daxter: ((glare)) //YES.//

Jak: You sure? Because rape scenes can be hot, too, you know.

Daxter: ((glares some more)) //Don't even think about it.//

Jak: Oh, come on! It happens like that all the time! I'll use you, and then magically once you feel how amazing it is to be claimed you'll be okay with this, and be sweet and loyal and ready to serve me and—

Daxter: //Screw. You.//

Jak: ((pouts)) You're no fun.

- - - - -

Daxter: (rummaging in Jak's drawers) //What's this? A stuffed animal from Jak's younger days? Aww, he does have a soft side! ((pause)) I should hide it and make him cry.//

- - - - -

Daxter: (peeks into the bathroom) //I guess I should forgive Jak and spend some quality time with him. We're best pals, after all!//

Jak: ((grin)) Hey, Dax. Wanna play with my rubber ducky?

Daxter: ….. //You are a sick, sick man.// (slams door)

Jak: (holds up duck confusedly) Was it something I said?

- - - - -


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Who needs these things, anyway?! Let's just skip the author's note again.

- - - - -

**Characters: ** All belong to Naughty Dog. Unfortunately.

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Jak could hardly believe his luck when Daxter crept slowly in. He tried to stay still in the water and appear unconcerned, but it was hard. He had thought the redhead would have already been making tracks as far away from this room as he could, and here the little guy was stepping cautiously inside and letting the door creak shut behind him. The gods were merciful after all.

Dax looked carefully this way and that as he checked out the unknown washroom, ears flicking curiously as he took it all in. His bare toes twitched on the cool, smooth rock of the floor, making Jak smile as he watched out of the corner of his eye.

"What's up, Dax? Decided to come keep me company?"

Daxter was already occupied lifting the lid off a straw basket in the corner, the one that contained all the dried flowers and herbs. However, Jak's voice did seem to catch his wandering attention. Looking almost sheepish he abandoned the basket, trotted over to the tub, and without further ado took a seat on the floor next to it.

"I'm honored by your visit, noble sir." Jak grinned widely as Daxter gave him a playfully threatening glare. "Especially since I doubt you need another bath already. You made it look like someone tried to drown you once today."

With a vague hand motion the redhead waved the comment off. It seemed he wasn't too concerned. In fact, it only took a moment for him to scoot over to the rim of the sunken, floor-level tub and put his feet in the lukewarm water.

Jak was warmed by the gesture. Dax wanted to be near him. Maybe not quite in the way that the prince had been hoping he would, but it was still something.

With a pang he suddenly wished that it could have always been like this. One little hiccup of fate, and Daxter might have been born into one of the noble families loyal to Damas. He and Jak could have grown up together—running, playing, sharing baths; the best of friends. No one would object to a little juvenile romance between them then. Daxter dressed to the nines and contentedly paddling his feet in Jak's bath water could have been a completely ordinary occurrence.

Jak forcefully shook off a sense of melancholy for what never was as the redhead began to swish his submerged feet a little harder, flicking water droplets into the air and making tiny waves that rippled across the surface of the pool. "Better watch it. You'll get your nice clothes wet."

Daxter's long ears slicked back and he gave the green-blonde a slightly bucktoothed smirk that toed the line of mischievous and bordered on downright evil. Sliding forward even further and bracing his hands on the lip of the bath, he began to kick in earnest. The white cotton pants that came down to just past mid-calf were immediately drenched. So was his fancy satin tunic, and Jak, and most of the surrounding area.

"Hey!" Jak yelled, unable to keep from laughing even as he raised an arm to block the soapy water from finding his eyes. "Okay, okay, I get it! You don't like playing dress up."

Grinning even wider, Daxter shifted slightly and aimed his kicks so that Jak was directly in his line of splash. Jak found himself shaking soaked hair out of his face and spitting out one of the dried flowers that had been floating around, now gone soggy. He didn't even need to think about his response. In the spirit of pure play he shot out a hand, grabbed his opponent by one boney ankle, and hauled him bodily straight into the pool.

Daxter slid off the slippery rim of the tub easily, despite a sudden panicked squeak and his hands clawing futilely for purchase. He hit the water mostly on his back and immediately went under in a flurry of bubbles, but was back up coughing and sputtering indignantly in moments.

Jak practically howled. His friend looked like a half drowned kitten, fiery hair plastered down in his eyes and courtesan's attire even more sopping than it had been barely a minute before. The light, airy clothing now clung to his thin form like a second skin. Which was actually quite provocative, and—

"Whoa! I thought we got past the hitting part!"

Dax had lunged for him in retaliation. Jak surged to his feet from the underwater stone step he had been sitting on to meet the attack, but not quite quick enough. The redhead made an awkward jump, got his arms around Jak's neck, and managed to topple him over into the water. The splash was rather epic. So was the all out battle that followed.

Within just a few minutes the floor of the washroom was running with overflow from the tub as the two rolled, tackled, splashed, and dunked like overgrown children who had no fear of a good hiding when it was all over. Jak made sure to keep it gentle, simply for the sake that he was so much heftier than Daxter, but he didn't hold back too much. He didn't have to. Dax wasn't giving him a moment's pause to regroup. He had found the prince's ticklish spot; his stomach, just above the hipbones.

"Okay, okay, truce! Truce!" Jak tried to sink down in the water to get away, gulping a mouthful in his panicked hilarity.

It was clear that a truce was the last thing on Daxter's mind. He tickled fiendishly, splashing the cooling water everywhere, until Jak finally couldn't take it any longer. He seized the redhead's hands and nearly lifted their smaller owner out of the bath by them. Jak grinned triumphantly down at his dripping, wriggling opponent.

"Tough luck, Dax. Don't be mad when you lose if you turn down the truce!"

Big blue eyes gazed imploringly up at him. A "pity me!" whine from his defeated adversary suddenly made the prince falter. Uh-oh. He was holding the little guy captive again, this time without even meaning to. The playful mood was pretty well broken. Quickly Jak let go of his hands, leaving Daxter to stand on his own no more than a step or two away.

"Um… okay then. I guess it's a tie after all."

Daxter didn't take the indirect invitation to draw back. They stood that way for a long moment in the waist deep water of the big tub, simply regarding each other, Dax looking up and Jak looking down. Then, the redhead took a small, sloshing step forward. Another. Until he was able, with many nervous glances up to be sure of Jak's reaction, to tentatively put his arms around the prince's bare waist.

Too stunned to react, Jak didn't move a muscle. It seemed to reassure the other. Sighing quietly, he leaned fully against Jak and settled his head against a strong chest as if he belonged there. Thin but sure arms gave the green-blonde a little squeeze as a freckled cheek slid a little on wet muscle.

_What the hell __is__ this?_ Jak wondered, completely amazed. This sudden behavior was the polar opposite of what had been shown by the redhead so far that night. _He can't still be trying to make up for biting me. Is he afraid he'll be punished somehow if he leaves and doesn't do this? Or… maybe… _

Very slowly he lowered his arms and wrapped them around the smaller slave's damp shoulders. Daxter relaxed even more. Giving Jak a little smile, he began to gently trace his fingertips over the prince's lower back. Jak shivered. That was it, right there, said more clearly than words ever could.

It was like being invited to pet a tiger and wanting to do it, but not wanting to get your arm bitten off. Right now Daxter wished to return his advances, maybe had from the beginning, but only if he had a say so in the matter. Only if it was equal between them. If he felt safe, and could back out at any time if he didn't feel alright about it. Jak could understand that well enough. Taking a leap of faith wasn't the same as being shoved off the cliff.

_The more I tried to push him the more he pushed me away, _Jak realized. _Maybe all he needed all along was to feel like he had the choice. Since I let him go earlier, maybe he's confident I will again if he doesn't like anything that happens. He finally trusts me! _

"Hey, Dax. Do you like me?"

He whispered it right next to one delicate long ear, and it twitched upwards in surprise. Daxter blinked up at him for a moment, startled, before swiftly turning his head and pointedly looking elsewhere. A scowl of mock annoyance hid nothing. He was blushing brightly.

"I hope you know, that is most definitely a yes."

Daxter gasped quietly, eyes going big and uncertain for just a moment when Jak reached to cup his chin and tilt his face up. He got over it quickly though. In moments he was rising slightly onto his toes to meet the kiss Jak offered.

Despite the fact that it was much drippier than he had anticipated, gathering the redhead up firm against him and kissing him breathless was every bit as enjoyable as Jak had imagined it would be. Daxter made the cutest little squeaky-whimpery noises in his throat, squirming against Jak but by no means trying to get away. The prince had to smile as he petted wet red hair and let his other hand wander over the back of Daxter's neck.

It looked like the little guy didn't have much experience with the whole kissing thing, if any at all. Jak was glad of that. He had caught random soldiers eyeing his friend with more than passing interest on more than one occasion. Daxter's flaming hair and pale, freckle-kissed skin stood out like a flare in the blue sky among the darkly tanned population of Spargus. He was small and exotic, like a little bird. Had he been female, Jak didn't have any doubts Dax would be considerably less than innocent by now, like it or not.

"Just take it slow, Dax," he murmured. "No rush."

The suggestion seemed to help. Daxter's hands stopped fidgeting at Jak's waist and he relaxed a little more, slowing the press of their mouths from hurried pecks to more leisurely smooches. For his part, Jak tried his best to coax rather than command. His tongue didn't so much demand access to an uncertain mouth as it politely, if a bit teasingly, asked permission by lapping at Daxter's bottom lip. Entrance was immediately approved, and now that Dax was with him in this Jak had no further concerns about being bitten. Life was good.

Tongue kissing was obviously a brand new thing for the slave. The soft noises he continued to make, now eager and increasingly needy, still held a definite note of wonder. If Jak hadn't been trying to convince the redhead's tongue to return the gesture and come on a little play date into his own mouth, he would have smiled. If Dax liked kissing this way so much he could sure oblige. He pulled his smaller friend closer, letting his arms drift down a narrow back, still petting and stroking.

The decorated belt around Daxter's waist was annoying Jak before he even realized he was trying to get it undone. He tugged absently at the length of jangling trinkets and sodden cotton as he finally forced himself to pull away from the redhead's mouth, earning a breathy huff of confusion and not a little displeasure from the kiss-ee. Before true outrage could set in the problem was solved, Jak kissing his way from the base of one sensitive long ear to the flickering tip with an accompaniment of stifled giggles.

"Yeah, that's right. Like that, don't you?"

It was a silly question that he obviously knew the answer to, whispered teasingly against a smooth jaw. More smothered, unsteady laughter was the only response. Jak hummed happily as Daxter's hands came up to gently touch his ears in turn. He moved down his friend's pale neck, nibbling as he went until he reached the gold collar.

_Damn stupid useless piece of junk,_ Jak groused to himself, and skipped over the restrictive strip of metal. Oh, well. It wouldn't deter him from pulling the top of Daxter's tunic down and nipping playfully at the ensuing exposed collarbone. The action earned him a startled hiccup and hands spasmodically clenching on his ears as the redhead pressed up against him even further.

Then the green-blonde stopped short. He had to. Because with every pleasured wriggle Dax was unconsciously rubbing up on him harder, and Jak's body was taking notice. So, suddenly, was Daxter. He blinked curiously when the attention being lavished on his neck abruptly ceased, no doubt wondering what was holding things up. Then his eyes narrowed in puzzlement, and quickly darted down between them to where the damning evidence of Jak's enjoyment lurked just beneath a thin layer of bubbles on the water.

"Uh…" Jak nervously cleared his throat.

_You're cute. We were kissing. Now I'm horny. Sorry about that._ Well, there really was no graceful way to explain the predicament. He was blushing slightly when Daxter did the unexpected. Still looking more curious than scared or angry, the slave reached out a hand and lowered it to the water.

"Hey, whoa!"

Jak stepped away quickly, very nearly slipping and falling backwards into the bath. Damn it, he was not that strong! Heated kisses were one thing. Heavy petting without the barriers of clothing, at least on his part, was another matter entirely. If Daxter touched him like that now there was no way to be absolutely sure that he could hold himself back from going further, whether the redhead wanted it or not. He was only human, after all.

"You just… stay right there."

Rather painfully, Jak left his friend and forced himself to slog back to his underwater steps on the opposite side of the pool. He sank down on the second-to-bottom step with a barely stifled groan. A little distance and a minute to calm down was what they needed in this case, and—that quiet splashing did not bode well. The prince glanced up. His worst fears were confirmed at once.

Daxter was stalking after him, ears laid back and a frown on his face as he made his way purposefully through the water. Yep, the little guy was pissed at being abandoned. He came to a stop in front of Jak, fiddling absently with the trailing tail of his oversized belt. Jak kept his eyes fixed firmly straight ahead. With him sitting down and Dax on his feet he could keep his gaze trained right in the center of the redhead's chest, and not have to risk seeing…

A quiet whine made him look up despite himself. Oh, no. There it was, just what he didn't want to see at the moment. Dax had a little pout going on, his lower lip poked out a bit in a characteristic "you left me!" look. Vaguely hurt puppy eyes wouldn't quite meet the green-blonde's own.

This time Jak really did groan. "Half an hour ago you were ready to murder me to keep me away from you, and now you're offended that I'm trying to leave you alone. Great."

Daxter just shrugged. He didn't look a bit sorry. That was then and this was now. Obviously he didn't go out of his way to pre-plan his emotions at any given time, so why should he be apologetic over any apparent mood swings?

"Look, it's not like I wanted to stop. Hell, to be perfectly honest I'd like to strip you naked and sit you in my lap right about now. But if I let you touch me I don't think I'd be able to stop later if you asked me to. It might get out of control and freak you out again. You should be flattered I'm being so considerate."

The redhead snorted, far from amused and less than flattered. He crossed his arms over his chest, annoyed and defensive. Clearly going forward in their recent activities had been just as much his idea as Jak's. Therefore, Jak should shut the hell up and let them get back to business.

"So you're sure you want to keep going."

A definitive nod.

"What exactly do you want to do?"

In answer Daxter reached out once more. Fingers trailed gently but surely from Jak's shoulder down his glistening chest, while a pointed look was given to what currently lay out of sight below the water line. _Let me look. Let me touch. Let me make sure it won't hurt me._

Jak quirked a brow at the bold request. "And if I let you do what you want to me, will you let me do something to you back? Fair is fair."

This time the look on the redhead's face was considerably less sure. But, Jak was right. Fair was fair. With a little gulp Dax nodded. Reciprocation would be permitted without any attempted maiming.

Grinning like a desert cat with a bird in its paws was unavoidable. So Jak did. He sat back farther on the stair, spreading his arms and, more importantly, legs wide to give the smaller boy access. "Alright then. Be my guest."

A little more composed, Daxter quickly stepped up to take charge. With many suspicious glances to make absolutely sure Jak was really going to stay still and let him look, he placed his hands on the prince's much broader shoulders. Jak shivered anew as long fingers wandered back down his chest. Even though he hadn't spent a lot of time thinking about scenarios between them with the redhead leading, this wasn't bad at all. In fact it was quite nice. Considerably more than nice. Especially when that voyaging hand dipped under the water at last.

- // - // - (edited) - // - // -

When Jak came it was almost funny. He thrust into Daxter's hand so hard he lost his balance with a sharp gasp and slipped off the edge of the bath, landing flat on his backside on the top step with an unexpected splash. The redhead let out a pinched squeak of laughter even as he swished his hand through the water to rinse off what little sticky release he had managed to catch before Jak slipped.

"Okay, yeah." The prince grinned back as he caught his breath, an odd mixture of cocky and foolish. "I guess that was pretty ignoble, huh?"

Dax snickered in return, flicking the excess water on his hand at Jak. He looked flustered but pleased, cheeks a light pink as he and the green-blonde regarded one another, almost nose to nose now that Jak had moved back down into the bath a little. It would have taken a much more internally disciplined man than Jak was to resist the temptation. He surged forward, grabbing his smaller friend up in a tight bear hug and lifting them both up off the steps. A quick kiss was delivered to the tip of the startled redhead's nose.

"My turn."

For a moment Daxter looked utterly petrified. He went rigid in Jak's arms, his hands flying up to brace against a broad, muscled chest and keep Jak from pulling them flush together. The larger boy chuckled teasingly, not giving up trying to pull his prey closer.

"What's wrong, Dax? Did you forget I get a turn, too?"

Jak thought that seemed pretty unlikely. How could someone forget a raging hard on? And Daxter _was_ just as aroused as Jak himself had been a few moments ago; he had felt that readily enough when he first pulled them close. Actually he felt that Dax had shown impressive willpower, not pausing to touch himself even once as he explored Jak's body. It was high time for the little guy to get some relief of his own.

"Come on, now. I can't believe you don't want me to take care of this." The prince took one arm from around the redhead to reach sneakily down between them. Daxter gasped sharply and went up on his tiptoes, obviously unprepared for the gentle squeeze. Not surprisingly the thin, sodden cotton of his baggy pants did nothing to dampen the effects of such a touch. "I think I'm done with the bath. Let's go to bed, Dax."

For half a beat there was silence. Then thin arms were going around Jak's neck and a high, miserable whine of undisguised fright was muffled against his wet chest. He might have already agreed to it, but apparently facing up to the deal was still scary. It seemed the slave's bravery fled the scene as soon as he lost complete control of the situation. Jak hugged him comfortingly as he sniffled, taking his hand away from the other boy's crotch at once.

"Hey, hey! Calm down, buddy. I'm not gonna hurt you, remember? I absolutely promise. I just want to make you feel good too, alright? You've got to trust me, here."

It took a few minutes for the petting and soothing to work their magic and leave Dax relatively calm once more. In that time, Jak became more determined than ever to make this work. Enjoyment of sex with others was a life skill. It would be downright inhumane if he didn't do his best to help Daxter past his apparent fear of it!

Very slowly Jak began to kiss at the redhead's neck again. He took his time working to hike up the wet shirt as unhappy whimpers were eventually replaced by little coos the more involved Dax allowed himself to be. When at last he offered to tug the clinging garment up and off completely Daxter nodded somewhat dazedly, even raising his arms to help as Jak pulled it gently over his head and exposed new, as yet untouched, territory. From there it was simple to skate slick fingers up thin sides, rub the rough pads of his thumbs over sensitive nipples.

"It gets better than that," Jak promised slyly as the slave squeaked and twitched violently under his hands. "Imagine touching yourself. Now imagine it feels even better." To punctuate the point he bent and ran his tongue over the flesh he had been rubbing at, then went all out with an open-mouthed kiss there while his free hand continued to roll and lightly pinch the other small nub.

As predicted, Daxter almost instantly became softly panting putty in his friend's hands. Under the water, lean hips tried to buck up against Jak's own for the first time.

Imminent victory was sweet. Jak felt as if every bedroom romp he had ever been part of had been but preparation leading up to that very moment. All of the wide-eyed and curious escapades of his younger days in the barracks with highly amused soldiers of both sexes now seemed mere training of a different sort. That horribly embarrassing and ill-advised time when he had tried to cozy up to Torn and been knocked half way across the training grounds by the infuriated commander—rendered entirely worth it if he could be here now with Dax.

Finally Jak felt it was time. Finding the redhead's belt trailing through the water he walked his hands up the length of it until he came to the tie. He pulled Daxter ever closer, reeling him in like a squirmy little fish, and… paused. Blue eyes immediately fluttered open from half mast and fixed on the prince. Why had he stopped?

Jak held perfectly still, smiling, meeting the slightly worried stare. "Alright, Dax. End of the line. Do you really want to do this? Yes or no."

Daxter's eyes widened. Obviously he hadn't expected to have his permission asked for twice. He shuffled a little, rubbing his own arms as the skin began to chill and goose bumps prickled, needy but nervous under Jak's gaze. He huffed unhappily.

Steadfast, Jak didn't move or speak. He had almost made a very bad mistake earlier, one that he would not be repeating. If this was going to happen between them tonight it would be with one hundred and one percent of the redhead's willing participation and consent. He was bound and determined that Daxter would never have any reason to doubt his affection and respect again. Better to double check now than regret it later.

At last, after much uncertainty and shifting from foot to foot, Daxter swallowed audibly. Looking back up at Jak he nodded definitively, then raised himself back up on tiptoe in a wordless request. Yes, he was sure. More. More kisses, more touches. More of what felt good and reassured at the same time. Jak, for his part, was more than happy to provide. Even with the impediment of the water it took only seconds for him to undo the belt.

"Step up, okay?"

Getting wet pants off while still in the bath was a little more challenging. Before long they were both snickering somewhat crazily. The redhead almost slipped getting out of the first leg, and Jak just managed to catch him under the arms and haul him upright again before he went under the water.

"I would have thought for sure you'd know how to take your own pants off without falling down by now."

The teasing comment earned Jak a splash right in the face.

"Okay, that's it. Get out of my tub!"

It was incredibly easy to grab the squirming, giggling slave and haul him right out of the pool. They only paused for a moment, dripping all over the already soaking tiles, for Jak to help steady Daxter as he wormed out of those ridiculously baggy harem pants. This time the operation went much smoother.

_I have to keep him laughing,_ Jak realized as he carefully kept his friend from slipping. _Keep it all about the fun. Can't let him think too hard about what's going on and get all nervous again._

He didn't waste a moment when the pants hit the floor in a soggy pile. Scooping Daxter back into his arms before he had a chance to resist Jak made straight back into the bedroom with his slightly drippy prize. Privately he basked in the fact that he was able to carry Dax, another male, so effortlessly. Jak might have been strong and skilled but he wasn't bigger or taller than very many other men that he knew. Next to the tiny redhead he sometimes felt huge, in a good way.

The moment they hit the bed, dampening the valuable hand woven blankets with still-wet hair and glistening skin, Daxter began to breathe faster. His ears fell, his eyes began to dart—sure signs of rapidly creeping upset. Picking up on the body language immediately, Jak moved back to give him a little space. Comfortingly he petted a hand down that swiftly rising and falling chest. Hmm. There had to be something he could do, some gesture he could extend, to keep the little guy at ease.

"Ah, hey, I got it. How's this?"

With Daxter looking on curiously Jak laid down; not on top of the redhead in any way, but on his side directly next to him. Once again they were nearly nose to nose. Tucking one arm under his head as a sort of makeshift pillow, Jak reached out to lightly trace Daxter's arm with his free hand.

"See? Just one hand, and I'm not pinning you down at all. If you really, really don't like something, you can get up. Alright?"

After carefully examining the situation for a moment or two Daxter offered a satisfied nod and even moved a little closer. He had relaxed considerably, and this time the green-blonde hoped he would stay that way. Not that he necessarily minded taking repeated breaks to reassure his friend, but they weren't exactly getting very far. Jak laughed quietly, changing the direction of his hand to stoke down Dax's ticklish side.

"You know… if _somebody_ wasn't being a total firecracker of nerves tonight we could have been past the hard part and tried three different positions by now. Nice job, Dax."

The hilariously affronted look he got was well worth the hard smack to the shoulder that came fast in its wake. With a playful growl Jak looped his arm around Daxter's waist and pulled him firmly into another deep kiss. Enough of that silliness and back to business.

- // - // - (edited love scene) - // - // -

Daxter slowly uncurled, breathing still fast and shallow. Jak licked at the corner of his mouth and looked up in time to catch one wary blue eye as the redhead's impossibly flushed face finally began to emerge from the pillow his upper body was still wrapped around. Jak smiled.

"Good?"

Daxter looked down at him like he was abso-friggin'-lutely nuts. His vibrant hair was mussed in a million different directions and his ears dropped in borderline exhaustion. Yes, it had been good.

Resisting the urge to drop an "I told you so" comment Jak lightly kissed his way upward. Dax giggled faintly as his stomach and chest were decorated with affectionate little pecks and relaxed back into the soft blankets, possessively hugging the pillow he seemed to have adopted as his own. Jak was more than willing to let him have it. The redhead cooed softly, sounding almost dazed, as Jak finally placed a kiss on his forehead and pulled them together as well as he could with the pillow still between them.

"Don't fall asleep yet, Dax. That was only the first part. You ready for the real fun stuff?"

The slave was blatantly shocked at the insinuation that there could be more. He stared at Jak in unabashed disbelief as the green-blonde tugged away his pillow and rolled them so he was propped on his arms, looking down at Daxter. Jak grinned. The night was young, and who was he to waste it?

- // - // - // - // -

To be continued…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**(2****nd****)AN:** So I hit a conundrum in this one. Most of the chapter was explicit. I had to cut stuff out. I cut as little as I could and have it still not be what I consider inappropriate for this site. (Yes, I know some of you think I could get away with more here but I'd rather play it safe. Younger eyes don't need to see this stuff.)

So no, you can't get mad at me for censoring the hell out of this chapter. Yes, you can go read it at my other account on adultfanfiction dot net. No, I don't encourage younger readers to do this. Yes, there will be a few more chapters and yes, there is a little bit more plot to this sorry excuse for a story.

Outtake time!

- - - - -

Jak: (thinking) Aww, it's so cute that he's so curious about me down there.

Dax: (thinking) Alright, gotta make absolutely sure we're not dealin' with anything contagious down here…

- - - - -

Jak: What's the matter, Dax? Did you forget I get a turn, too?

Dax: *squirms* //No, but I was sure hopin' _you_ forgot!//

- - - - -

Jak: So was it good?

Dax: //Well, I suppose it wasn't too terrible. Looks like yer not totally useless after all. I guess I might keep ya around awhile longer.// *smiles cutely*

Jak: You're so damn adorable! *glomp*

Dax: //Ah, the "sweet, innocent, loyal slave" act. Gets 'em every time.//

- - - - -


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **I could get used to skipping these things. Let's do it again.

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog. And it's a damn good thing for that ottsel that he doesn't belong to me, let me tell you…

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Much later that night a cool wind blew in from the mountains in the east. It ruffled the drapes over the windows and the doorway that lead out to the small balcony, then swirled around the spacious room. Jak woke from a light doze. He half sat up in bed and looked around groggily.

It was still night. That was good. Daxter was still soundly asleep beside him under the warm covers. That was even better. He had stayed awake long after the redhead succumbed to exhaustion, just so he could savor the moment. When he had finally gotten to sleep it hadn't been all that deeply. He should probably try again, though, or the coming day and its flurry of pre-battle preparations would not be kind. There was still plenty of darkness left to be enjoyed before the sun came up and reality called.

However, Jak didn't find that sleep would come back so easily. Though his rest should have been undisturbed with the object of his affections snuggled easily in his arms, his brain seemed to have taken the lull in the action as a cue to kick into overdrive. He couldn't help but lie there and think. And as he thought, he began to worry.

_I'm going to have to be in the middle of the action almost constantly from now on, _he thought uneasily. _How the hells am I going to be able to keep Dax close enough to make sure nothing happens to him? I can't keep him up on the front lines with me. That's way too dangerous. _

Jak shot a look down at his friend's relaxed features. It strengthened his resolve—Dax accompanying him into the fray was definitely out.

_No way. He's smaller than most and he doesn't even know how to fight. So what else can we do? I guess he should be safe enough inside the palace, pending none of the invaders manage to get past our lines. But then we still have to worry about Dad… I have no idea what he's planning to do to keep me and Dax apart._

And the thought made him unexpectedly angry. For the first time, with a start, he realized exactly how unfair their situation was if Damas was actually serious about separating them. From that point on their friendship would be considerably more complicated. And for what? On what grounds?

_So Dax is a boy. So what? _Jak seethed silently. _It's not like everyone else in this kingdom doesn't fool around that way. It's not looked down on or anything. Half the soldiers have same-gender partners, and no one gives a damn about that! Okay, yeah, so I'm the heir to the throne. I'm still marrying Keira. There's no reason I can't have Daxter, too. It's just ludicrous. _

The prince took a deep, deep breath near Daxter's hair that smelled like bath soap and dried herbs. He tried to relax a little.

_Okay, Jak, calm down. It's alright. You don't even know if the old man was serious. What's the worst he could do?_

To make sure he never had the free time to seek Jak out Daxter could be given enough tasks for three people, more work than he could ever accomplish on his own, and be run into the ground with exhaustion.

_Just don't think about things like that. We won't let that happen. _He snuggled in closer to his friend in reassurance, more for himself than the sleeping redhead.

There was also the distinct possibility that Dax could be given to one of the favored nobles as a household slave, and be taken away from the palace. If that happened it was almost certain they would never see each other again.

Jak twitched uncomfortably. What was with these horrible imaginings? Surely he still had plenty of time to think of a way to make Damas forget all about Daxter, especially in light of a coming war. The king had much bigger problems on his mind now. Most likely he wouldn't even spare a moment thinking about—

—handling the issue by tossing the problematic slave to the soldiers for entertainment value and stress relief in the barracks when the fighting was done. It wasn't a terribly uncommon occurrence when servants or slaves made trouble, even if most of the unfortunates chosen for the punishment were female. And the soldiers had shown interest in Dax before…

The very contemplation made Jak want to tear someone's face off. Daxter was HIS. His friend, his lover, his favored pet if the redhead would only allow it. No one else was allowed to have him. No one. Not even with the king's permission.

With absolute certainty the green-blonde knew how a situation like that would pan out. Daxter would fight, just like he had fought that night. But unlike Jak, the soldiers wouldn't be so kind as to stop their advances at the first sign of unwillingness on the redhead's part. They didn't give a damn about Daxter as a person. All they saw was an annoying little slave brat who caused more trouble than he was worth, and if he were ever at their mercy when they knew there would be no punishment for what they did to him…

Dax would be hurt, no doubt about it. Perhaps hurt badly. And if Damas wanted to be a cold bastard and go to extremes, which he could and would do, there wouldn't be a damn thing Jak could do to help his friend. A cold, seized feeling took hold in Jak's chest despite the warmth of the shared bed. He wasn't used to feeling helpless, but in this case it seemed that he didn't have much of a choice about what to feel.

_We could leave, _he thought, grasping for any kind of solution. _With the faster leaper lizards we could be gone before the sun comes up. No one would know we left for at least a while. We could make it. We'd go to the mountains and get out of this stupid desert and just enjoy life, and—_

Jak chuckled a little bitterly. Lovely thoughts, but entirely impossible. There was a battle on the immediate horizon, perhaps even an all out war. Spargus needed its warrior prince. He couldn't just abandon his people in their first serious conflict since they had left Haven City so many years ago.

_Why can't this just be as simple as I thought it would be?_

The green-blonde sighed. He tried to bury his face in Daxter's neck for comfort and inspiration, but found his nose pressed against something hard and flat. What in the world? It took Jak a moment of squinting in the dark to realize that his face was touching Daxter's slave collar. The more he was forced to come into contact with that thick gold band the more he despised it. He fingered it moodily, absently noting that it was warm with his friend's body heat, while the thoughts and emotions inside him twisted and coiled like angry sand snakes.

The night slowly slid by as Jak struggled to strategize, hugging his redhead and staring out the window until the stars grew dim. It took him almost until dawn to think of a painful, but perhaps entirely necessary, solution.

- // - // - // - // -

"Hey, Dax. Good morning."

The redhead started as he awoke, blinking rapidly and pushing himself up a bit from the sheets. Then he paused, looking around in surprise.

Jak chuckled. He smiled reassuringly from his pillow next to Daxter as the smaller boy got used to waking up in an unfamiliar part of the palace. The sun's rays were just beginning to creep over the horizon and in the window, lighting the room with a peaceful golden glow. Daxter's collar glinted brilliantly in the light. Jak blinked hard and looked away.

"Did you sleep well?"

Daxter nodded amiably before he dropped back to the mattress and wriggled around under the covers to face Jak. The little smile that showed his front teeth was heartwarming. It spoke of restored trust and the expectation that Jak would tell him what was going to happen next. Which Jak would, of course. He just didn't want to.

Cutting to the chase was a necessary evil, no matter how much he might want to just lie there and cuddle and enjoy the redhead in his bed. They might not have much time. He had to do this now, before anyone could be sent up to fetch either one of them away. The prince took a moment to collect himself, took a deep breath. Daxter watched curiously and waited.

"Dax, listen."

The redhead's ears perked accordingly.

"You know that things are going to get… complicated now, right?"

A slow nod. A slight frown. Maybe he didn't understand completely, having already been escorted out of the hall the night before when the king made his final threat. Jak struggled to explain in the simplest, least painful way possible.

"My dad doesn't want us to be around each other anymore. At all. You know he thinks you're distracting me. He told me that after last night he's going to make sure I don't have anything else to do with you. I don't really know why he thinks it's so wrong for us to be together, or what he's planning to do to keep us apart. But he'll do something."

Daxter was frowning openly now, looking confused and indignant. Jak agreed wholeheartedly.

"Yeah, I know. It's not fair. But I don't think there's anything I can do about it. I doubt I can change his mind. I can't change someone else's mind if he's already given them orders to do something about us. People obey him before they obey me."

Worry and the beginnings of dread were the last things Jak wanted to see on his little friend's face. He sat up and Daxter scrambled to do likewise, the sheets falling from narrow shoulders to pool around his waist. "Okay. So you see why we have a big problem." Daxter nodded, giving Jak the incentive to charge ahead. "Well, I think I know a way to fix it. At least, part of it. It's… it's not an answer I _like_, but I've thought about it since last night and it may be the only option we've got."

Dax stared, completely at attention. Jak cleared his throat with some difficulty before continuing.

"You have to leave, Dax. By yourself." Even if sending him away was the last thing Jak wanted. Even if it hurt just to think about the seemingly breakable redhead wandering alone in the wastelands with a bare minimum of survival supplies and no one to protect him. "And you have to go soon. This evening."

A head of flaming hair was shaking in denial. Daxter's ears were laid back almost completely.

"Yes, yes you do." Jak tried his best to sound firm, commanding. "You can't stay here. Something very, very bad could happen to you if we don't get you away from Damas."

An incredibly frustrated gesture met the statement. Daxter had tried running away before, countless times! If he couldn't escape then, how could Jak expect him to manage now?

"This time will be different. I'll make sure of it." Jak was more than determined. "We've got an enemy army marching toward us. Everything will be in an uproar. Everyone will be distracted. This is the perfect time for you to sneak out."

The slave had gone perfectly still and quiet. His gaze unsettled the prince a bit.

"Look, don't worry. It'll be easy. I'll make sure you get different clothes, some food and water. Once you sneak out of the palace all you have to do is find somewhere to hide in the city until nightfall. The traders' market ends tonight. You can slip out the gates with the rest of the travelers." A lump was trying to form in his throat. He ignored it. "Head for the mountains. The troops from Haven are coming from exactly the opposite direction. Hide and sleep in the daytime, travel at night—you'll be safe."

Unless there were marauders who also moved by night. Unless there were nocturnal metal heads or other large predators. Unless any number of unfortunate things happened to a lone traveler with no skill at self defense.

Slowly a hand stretched out and landed on Jak's arm. Hesitant eye contact was made. Daxter looked afraid to be hopeful as he cocked his head and asked a silent question, and Jak hated the answer he had to give.

"No. I can't go with you." He had to look away from that hurt face. "I'm sorry. I wish I could, but I've got to stay. I've got to fight for my kingdom. That's about the only thing Dad was right about."

The redhead huffed loudly, an insubordinate glare in place. Well, maybe he didn't feel like leaving after all, then. Maybe he wanted to stay here where Jak was. Where his friend was. Only imagining the lewd, cruel laughter of faceless soldiers as they toyed with their prey gave Jak the resolve to stand firm and unrelenting. The thought of blood running down the pale, slim thighs he had made quiver with pleasure just hours ago. Maybe he was overreacting… but maybe he wasn't.

Jak growled. "You're going if I have to drag you to the gods-damned gate and throw you out myself."

Now the glare he was getting radiated something akin to betrayal. It quite resembled the look someone might acquire if they had been teased, tricked, used, and tossed aside just as they were ready to admit feelings for the jerk who had run them through the emotional wringer. Abruptly Daxter turned away and tried to leave the bed.

"Dax, it's not like I'm throwing you away!" Jak lunged forward and grabbed before he could stop himself, pulling the struggling slave to him in a tight, tight hug. "You're my best friend, and I—Precursors, I think I'm in love with you! That's why you have to get out of here! I don't think I could stand it if something happened to you, if I was here to see it happen and couldn't help. So please, just _leave_ while you've got the chance. Okay?"

It seemed to take a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did the squirming to get free and the angry noises immediately stopped. Daxter went still in Jak's arms, accepting the somewhat desperate embrace, ears flicking to and fro in surprise.

"I promise I won't forget about you," Jak offered quietly, grateful that he was being allowed one last chance to hold his friend. "I hope you won't forget me. Maybe we'll even see each other again sometime. I'd… I'd come find you when all this stupid mess with Praxis is finished, if I knew where to look. Keira wouldn't mind. She likes you, too. She'll miss you."

Alright, he was babbling now and he knew it. Trying to delay the inevitable even though he knew they were losing precious time as the sun climbed ever higher and the palace awoke. Jak let a strand of silky red hair slip through his fingers and sighed. At least Daxter seemed to have finally agreed with him. The next step was to get him some inconspicuous clothes, gather some gear together, and find a way to sneak him out of the palace grounds before anyone noticed that neither of them had been seen that morning. Lost in his planning, the prince thoughtlessly ran his hand through Daxter's hair and down the back of his neck. It stopped on the collar.

Dax was trying to make him feel better, now. He petted Jak in return, messing up green-blonde bed head even further. With a comforting sort of sound he put his arms around the prince's much broader shoulders and hugged. Jak smiled slightly. Using his light hold at the nape of his friend's neck he gently tugged Daxter closer until their foreheads touched. The clasp of the collar was hard under his fingers.

"Know what else?"

The redhead blinked curiously, almost cross-eyed from their close proximity. He looked puzzled, but entirely trusting.

"When I'm in charge," Jak whispered softly, tapping at the small latch, "this will be very, very against the law." And he twisted as hard as he could.

There was a startled squawk from Daxter as he was jerked to the side with the force of Jak's movement and the latch of the collar snapped cleanly off. Ignoring the throbbing of his fingers Jak reached behind Daxter's head, caught the now-free ends of the metal band in either hand, and pulled. The soft gold gave easily, and in a moment the mangled collar fell to the bed between them.

For a second it seemed like what had happened had failed to dawn on the redhead. He stared at Jak sorely, obviously miffed, and raised a hand to rub at the side of his neck where the unexpected tug had made the skin red. Then his hand actually met skin, not metal. Jak had to smile at the almost frightened look he received.

"Yeah, it's gone. One less thing for us to worry about. You probably never deserved it in the first place."

Stunned but happy tears were gathering at the corners of big blue eyes. Nearly overwhelmed, Daxter ran his hands all around his neck. It was really true—for the first time in years, no constant symbol of servitude. His lower lip quivered as if he might cry, but for only an instant before a huge grin broke through instead.

Jak let out an "oof!" as his lap was abruptly filled with an overjoyed former slave and that grinning mouth forcefully met his own. Lips locked, tongues tangled, hands clutched, and Jak had never regretted anything less. Until a loud, jarring knock at the door abruptly destroyed their moment. They pulled apart immediately, both staring at the source of the interruption.

Another knock. "Prince Jak? Your highness, are you awake?"

The voice was Sig's. Jak swallowed a curse and tried to pull Daxter closer again, into a more protective hold. Damn his own hesitance! Their chance to get the redhead out without detection might be ruined now, all because he hadn't wanted to let go so soon. But then, all at once, he found that he had no choice but to let go. His palms where they wrapped around Daxter's upper arms suddenly felt as if they were touching fire.

"Ah! What the—?!"

It all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. When Jak recoiled, a blinding glow that resembled nothing so much as the flash of activated eco enveloped the room. He had a panicked second, before he was forced to shield his face, to realize that it was coming from Daxter.

_What the hell? What the HELL? What is that? Is Dax hurt? Was there a curse on that collar or something to keep people from taking it off?! If he's hurt I'm going to fucking kill Samos—!_

Jak's mind raced frantically and he wiped wildly at his watering eyes, desperate to at least see what was happening. Not that he could do much in the grand scheme of things if the Sage's preventive magic was indeed having some sort of terrible effect on his friend, but not knowing what was going on was worse.

The shocking spectacle was over almost as soon as it had begun. Literally seconds had passed by the time Jak was able to refocus on his friend, but it was enough time for the damage to be done. The burning in his hands subsided. The glow faded. And where the skinny redhead had been sitting only moments before, something small, orange, and fuzzy blinked back at the prince.

Jak stared. The animal stared back. Its long ears twitched. Then, as another impatient knock sounded at the door, what was unmistakably a smirk flashed across its little orange- and yellow-furred face. A very Daxter-like smirk.

"Thanks, pal. I totally owe ya one!"

The path to the balcony was wide open, and the critter formerly known as Jak's redhead immediately took full advantage. The green-blonde watched silently, his mouth hanging open, as it leapt from the bed without a backward glance and bounded toward freedom on long, gangly legs. A thick, lengthy tail disappeared behind the fluttering curtain just as the bedchamber door swung open.

"Your highness?"

Jak blinked rather dumbly as Sig peeked in. "Uh… yes?"

"Sorry to disturb you, but King Damas has sent word that you're to report to Torn at the training grounds immediately." The soldier was looking at him strangely. Well, even more strangely than would be normal given the fact that he was sitting naked in bed and probably looking like he had seen a ghost. "Prince Jak? Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Jak heard himself say. His own voice sounded very distant, almost as if he were dreaming. "Everything's fine. Tell my father I'll be down in ten minutes."

"Yes, your highness." Bowing slightly, Sig pulled the door shut once more. His heavy boots echoed down the corridor. In a moment there was nothing left but morning silence.

"Dax? Daxter?!"

Jak bolted out of bed. He tripped over the rug and half stumbled onto the balcony, looking frantically from one end of the small terrace to the other. Nothing. There was no sign of any living creature, let alone the one that Daxter seemed to have suddenly become. He peeked over the edge of the stone railing, almost dreading what he might see on the ground far below. But there was nothing there, either. Only the gardens, peaceful in the early morning sun.

Draped disbelievingly over the rail as the cold, hard truth finally began to sink in, Jak could only think one thing.

_Oh, gods. Oh dear, sweet gods. I turned my best friend into a weasel!_

And as the prince of Spargus had a personal crisis, far out across the wastelands a cloud of dust rose high into the blinding blue of the sky. The forces of Haven were about to reach their destination.

-//-//-//-//-

To be continued…

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(2nd)AN: Don't smite me, guys. I tried, really. College has the unfortunate side effect of eating lives. *scuttles away to avoid thrown slippers*

Well, anyway, Jak's gone and done it. He disobeyed direct orders, took the collar off, and look what happened. He had just better get his crap together before the forces of evil (?) arrive on his doorstep. Tune in next time to find out what, exactly, has happened here—and what might happen in the near future! And, as usual, uncensored version lives in the other account. I trust by this time you know where that is ^_^

Outtake time.

- - - - -

Jak: Don't worry, Dax! I won't let those horrible monsters lay a finger on you! *sob!*

Dax: (being squished in a hug) //So, this is the pot totally calling the kettles rapists…//

- - - - -

Sig: (salutes) I've asked the prince to report for duty, sir.

Torn: Very good, soldier. Now, as I was saying— (glances randomly toward the palace) Jak, what the hell are you doing?! Get off the damn balcony, boy, you're naked!!

Spargus Army: (stares in awe and wonder)

Torn: *face-palm* They don't pay me enough to deal with this…

- - - - -


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** Sorry for the abrupt ending to the last chapter, everyone. Talk about your plot twists, right?! But it had to be. So let's hurry and get into the next installment, and forget all about that little blip, shall we?

**Characters:** Everyone belongs to Naughty Dog. Even the setting belongs to them, if you cross your eyes and squint a little.

* * *

"Jak! Jak, stop! I said _hold_, soldier!"

It took the prince a moment to realize that he was indeed being screamed at. It took him a few more moments to decide how to respond, and in that short amount of time his stunned opponent somehow wound up face down in the dirt of the training field. Obviously it wasn't his fault.

The look on Torn's face was far from pleased as he jogged over, raising little puffs of dust under his heavy footfalls. "What the hell was that about?! Jak, I think it's time for you to take a break."

He frowned. "But—"

"Break. Now."

Jak huffed but did as he was told. Stowing his practice sword he meandered off the field, hardly noticing when the crowd of watching soldiers parted around him like a flock of songbirds before a hawk. It had not, as such, been a good day. Maybe he could use a little rest in the shade after all.

Torn joined him before too long, still looking none too thrilled. Very pointedly the commander dropped down beside Jak under the tented pavilion that had been set up for the officers. "Alright. May I ask what's been going on out there today?"

"What?" Jak idly flicked an ear. "You can't say I'm not giving any effort for once. You've got to be happy with that change, right?"

"That makes me very happy. In fact, I'm ecstatic. However, I would like to point out that as of now all of the new recruits and a good majority of the seasoned warriors are afraid to spar with you. Your newfound enthusiasm would be better used raising troop moral instead of making them frightened of their own leader, wouldn't you agree?"

Jak shrugged noncommittally. Torn sighed.

"Jak, look. I know you're upset. I personally think you have a right to be—and don't you dare tell your father I said that. But we have to look at the bigger picture right now. Taking out your anger on the subordinates isn't the way to handle the situation. I hear you punched one of the servants this morning?"

The green-blonde had to smirk at the memory. Pure coincidence had seen him walking to breakfast down the same corridor as a group of the palace staff, one of them bragging loudly to the rest how he had "showed that little redheaded bastard who's boss" the night before. Daxter's goggles had been perched on the filthy man's head. Jak still considered the entirely satisfying crunch of his fist meeting a gaping face to have been the highlight of his day. He lightly fingered the worn goggles now hanging by their straps from his belt, half listening to Torn's raspy but somehow soothing voice.

"… so, do you think you can do that?"

"Huh?"

Torn sighed deeply. "I asked you if you could keep your mind on the situation at hand. But judging by your response, I think it would be better if you took a little time out. You're officially in charge of going to tell the servants to bring out water for the troops. Get moving, soldier."

It didn't take long at all for Jak to do as he was told. Life really was much simpler when he followed orders without a fight, though he would never admit as much out loud. When his errand had been run, however, the prince didn't quite know what to do with himself.

_I doubt Torn wants me back on the field, _he thought as he wandered along the wall top. _Maybe I should have taken it a little easier on the troops. Not all of them are jerks, I guess. Even if I didn't really mean to sprain that guy's wrist that's still one more soldier we won't have in top condition now…_

As he considered, Jak looked over the ledge and down into the gardens. He scanned the lush expanse in vain. Not a sign of orange fur was forthcoming. Not that he knew what he would be able to do even if he did spot the odd little creature that had been his friend. There were strange, strange powers at work in the world—unless you were trained to handle the challenge, as sages like Samos were, messing with them was generally a bad idea. There was no guarantee he would be able to do anything to change Daxter back without possibly making the problem even worse, and he doubted very much that Samos would be of any help. And that was all supposing that the little animal hadn't been scampering around willy-nilly in his unexpected freedom and been picked off by a hawk already.

Jak groaned softly, letting his arms cross over the top of the wall stone and his forehead rest on them. He really didn't need that mental image pecking at his conscience. "This has got to be the weirdest day of my life."

"You're telling me."

Jak's head snapped up. "Keira!"

"You were perhaps expecting someone else?" She moseyed up to lean beside him, glancing out over the cityscape of Spargus beyond the palace complex. Hot wind ruffled her blue-green hair and made her squint against the bright sun. "I've been looking for you all morning, 'great warrior prince.' Been up to no good, as usual?"

"Something like that." Jak couldn't help but notice that his friend looked tired. "What's the word?"

Knowing exactly what he was referring to, Keira cut to the chase. "I snuck down to the city last night. Erol was still there."

"Did he tell you anything else about Praxis' army?"

"Yeah. Quite a bit, actually." She sighed. It was somehow bitter, to Jak's infinite surprise. "Turns out he's their general."

"What?!" Despite everything else on his mind at the moment, Jak's first reaction was one of military strategy. "The enemy army's general is inside the city?"

"Was, until late last night. It's not like there was anything I could do to stop him from leaving, even when I did find out how dangerous he was." Keira shrugged moodily. "He came in with the traders to scout things out for himself. Formulate battle plans. You understand."

"Smart bastard." Jak began to pace. From what Damas had said, Praxis' head general was unbelievably sly. What kind of damage would he be able to do if he had already seen inside their defenses? "Remind me to fire the guards at the main gate."

"It's not their fault, Jak. Strangers come in and out of the city all the time. Wastelanders, the less violent marauders, occasionally. If we'd known sooner that there was a threat of invasion the traders market never would have been allowed to happen."

Jak sighed deeply. Despite his frustration he knew she was right. They had been spoiled with a longer-than-average span of relative peace; they had let their guard down. No use punishing the sentries now. "Alright. What's done is done. Now, we've got to make sure that it doesn't happen again. The city has to go on lockdown, right now. Most likely we'll be facing a siege."

Keira nodded and fished a small piece of parchment paper from her belt pouch. "I wrote down everything I can remember that Erol told me about the Haven troops. I don't think he figured out that I'm connected to you and King Damas, so everything he said should be the truth. I made like I was a stranger here and was impressed that he would be brave enough to command a hostile takeover of the place."

Jak couldn't help but grin. "So he bragged for the hot Wastelander girl. You're pretty amazing, Keira."

"I'll give this to Torn. I'm sure you and he will want to go over it with the king tonight." Waving off the compliment, Keira turned to go. Only a few steps away, though, she paused. "Ha. You know what's really amazing, Jak?"

"What's that?"

"My luck. My first crush since I was ten years old, and he has to be one of the bad guys."

Jak froze. Oh. Oh, that really wasn't fortunate at all. Shaking off the blank stare he knew he was sporting, he quickly moved behind her to lay a hand on her shoulder. Even if it would never work out, he didn't want his friend to be upset. "Keira, hey, I'm sorry…"

She looked uncomfortable. "Well, I mean, not that it really matters. You and I will be together someday, after all. I don't know why I even mentioned it."

"No, don't think like that," Jak said firmly. He gave the petite shoulder still in his grasp a little shake. "You _are_ allowed to like other people. Just because our parents say we're going to be together, just because it makes sense politically, that doesn't mean you don't get to choose who you love." He thought for a moment. "Even though I might have to kill this guy on the battlefield. Sorry in advance, if that happens."

After a moment of startled silence, Keira had to laugh. "Well, in that case I think I can forgive you in advance if that happens. Just barely." She turned to give him a brief hug, still smiling. "You know, I think I like what that slave kid did to you."

At the mention of Daxter Jak froze, tried his best to muffle a groan of ironic unhappiness and failed. Keira picked up on it immediately. Damn it.

"Jak… Jak, listen. I know he's run off again."

"Yeah. I told him to get lost."

"Good for you. I know you just want what's best for him." Reaching up, Keira affectionately straightened his headscarf. "And you did exactly the right thing. I wasn't going to tell you this, but… since he's already gone I think it'll make you feel better." She looked away, obviously bothered. "Your father and Daddy decided that it was okay to get rid of him. I heard them talking about it after breakfast. They were going to make sure he got sent away with someone at the end of the traders market this evening."

As her soft words sank in Jak began to feel genuinely sick. This was his little friend they were talking about, not some inanimate item that could be bought, sold, or bartered! He pulled Keira back into his arms for a tighter, grateful squeeze. "Thanks. Thanks for telling me. That won't happen now. They won't be able to find him this time." Maybe what had seemed like a horrible accident of hostile magic might not be so bad after all, considering the alternative. At least now Daxter would be unrecognizable to anyone who might wish to do him harm.

"I'm glad. I know he means a lot to you. And who knows—maybe you'll get him back someday."

If the boy-turned-animal in question wasn't already fuzzy scavenger bait in the desert sands or a Spargus back alley by now. Feeling utterly helpless for the second time in twenty four hours, Jak forced himself to let go of Keira. She had her own business to attend to. "I should let you get going and talk to Torn. Thanks again, Keira. You really stuck your neck out this time."

"Aw, not at all. Nothing any red-blooded Spargian woman wouldn't do for prince and country." Making a show of flexing subtle arm muscles she chuckled, gave him a wink, and finally turned away. Jak noted a little spring in her step that hadn't been there before. She was feeling better, then. Good.

Noise from the training ground below slowly brought Jak out of the tiny private world he and Keira had been tucked away in. He should get back down there, and really try to be more mindful of the physical well-being of his companions while he was at it. More hard training and shows of confidence for the Spargus forces would probably do more to keep his mind off his personal troubles than anything Jak could dream up to occupy himself.

_Wherever he went and whatever he looks like, _the prince thought morosely as he gave a final glance at the mountains in the distance and descended from the wall top once more, _just please let Daxter be alright._

* * *

Jak was entirely right when he assumed that the day's training would keep him occupied. It was much later that evening when he trudged up the stairs to his rooms, dog tired and dirty.

_Fighting is highly overrated,_ he mentally groused with laid back ears.

The conference of war that had been called among Torn, Damas, Samos, Keira, the top officers, and himself had taken two hours just on its own. Strategies had to be hashed out. Battle plans had to be dreamed up. And things hadn't been pretty when Samos had finally learned where the coveted secret information had come from. At that point the green-blonde had prudently excused himself to wash up for the late dinner about to be set on the board for them.

No one had touched his room all day. The bed remained unmade, the curtains and washroom door stood open, the dented brass urn lay on its side in the middle of a mess of pebbles just inside the door. It was possible word had gotten around, and now the servants were too afraid of bodily injury to venture into his domain to clean. Jak felt a sort of gleefully evil satisfaction in the idea. Jak Mar was not to messed with, and that went double for those under his protection. They deserved being frightened out of their wits for what they had done to his little friend.

Jak sighed deeply. It all kept looping around to Daxter. All day long, every little thing had reminded him of the redhead and the mind-boggling way they had parted that morning, perhaps for the last time.

_I have to stop thinking about it. About him. For my kingdom's sake I have to focus! I've got to believe that Dax is safe somewhere. And, you never know. He may not want my help at all. He might be okay with being a weasel, if it keeps him out of being a slave. _

Yeah, sure. He could justify his reckless disobedience of a wise old sage's explicit orders all day long and still never really know if Daxter hated him for what he had accidentally done. Grabbing frustrated double handfuls of his short hair Jak fell backwards onto the bed without bothering to take off his dusty boots first. The low mattress squeaked in protest. And that wasn't all that squeaked.

"Hey! Watch what yer doin' up there!"

With a warrior's reflexes Jak bolted upright and leapt from the bed, hand automatically falling to the side of his belt—exactly where the sheath of his sword was not at the moment. He had given it to one of the attendants downstairs, curse his luck. Grabbing a candlestick off the bedside table instead, Jak brandished it boldly as he glared suspiciously around the seemingly empty room.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

The voice that answered back was positively grumpy. "Okay, okay, sheesh! Guy can't catch a wink 'round here without bein' squashed by big heavy lugs an' then gettin' yelled at for it."

Out from under the bed squirmed a long, lithe, orange form. It paused on the rug to rub halfheartedly at its face and eyes, indeed looking as if it had just been rudely awoken from a peaceful snooze. Jak nearly dropped his candlestick.

"Daxter?!"

There was a huge yawn that showed slightly pointed little canines, perfectly white. "The one an' only. And I was havin' a really great nap, too. Been waitin' for ya most of the day." Noticing the prince's bewildered stare, an orange head tilted slightly. Long ears flicked in puzzlement. "What?"

Where to begin? "Dax, you're… you're tiny! And furry! And you can talk!"

"Yeah, I know. Ain't it great?" Looking quite content with the development Daxter smoothed down the yellow fur of his belly. Noticing his tail give a slight wag, he grabbed it up and squeezed it happily to his chest. "I really missed this thing."

There were mystic forces at work in the world that most mortals could barely comprehend. Sometimes these forces reared their heads in bad occurrences, and sometimes in good. Apparently this was one of the rarer good times. Almost as relieved as he was stunned, Jak slowly dropped to his knees on the rug beside the altered form of his friend. The candlestick clanged sharply as it dropped to the stone floor. "Then you're not mad at me for turning you into a weasel?"

Daxter bristled. "Let's get one thing straight right off the bat, pal. I ain't no weasel! I am an OTTsel, thank you very much. And I happened to look like this for quite a long time before I had the bad luck to run into that dirty, rotten, lousy, no-good, no-talent, stuck-up, self-righteous, bug-eyed, flop-eared, log-wearin'—!"

Jak watched the sudden fit silently, kneeling there on the carpet beside an irate ottsel that was violently stomping, cursing, and throwing inappropriate hand gestures. Ottsel. He had never seen or heard of such a creature before. Most animals he knew of didn't walk on their back legs, or have perfectly distinctive little hands in place of front paws, or have such brilliantly colored fur that would stick out like a sore thumb in the drab desert landscape. Or throw verbal tantrums.

But what did that matter? Daxter was alright, even if he did look vastly different than before. Jak hadn't made a mistake when he took the collar off, after all. He had done nothing wrong. And Daxter had come back to him, for whatever reason, instead of bolting off into the wild blue without a backward glance. Despite the strangeness of the circumstances, a little spark of happiness began to glow.

Slowly the green-blonde raised a hand and carefully, so carefully, touched his fingertips to Daxter's furry shoulder. "Is this really what you used to look like before you came here?"

Dax stopped mid rant, ears going up in surprise. "Uh. Yeah. Eh-heh, sorry. Got a little carried away, there." Visibly the former slave made an effort to compose himself with deep breaths and smoothing raised hackles. "This is what I am for real. What I was quite happy bein', until yer moronic 'Court Sage' happened to catch me with my guard down. Jak, please, when yer the king, get rid'a that bozo!"

The prince laughed weakly. That didn't explain everything, not by a long shot, but it would do for now. He could find out more later. Right now he was just happy to finally hear his friend say his name, now that he knew it was indeed possible. Lightly he began to scratch under Daxter's chin.

"And you could talk before, too?"

"Mmm-hm." Coherent speech seemed impossible. Dax looked like he was in heaven as Jak scratched, ears flitting back in enjoyment and eyes falling to half mast. Well, at least now behavior that had seemed odd in a human made perfect sense.

"I've not seen a talking animal in years. So it was the collar that kept you from speaking?"

"Yeah." With a last blissful sigh, Daxter finally eased away from the scratching. Jak was a little sad at the loss of contact. "That damn thing put a huuuuge damper on my life. Couldn't talk, couldn't change back, couldn't do—anything, really." The prince was gifted with a grateful little grin. "I really do owe ya fer gettin' me out'a that mess, buddy. Even if it did take a few years to convince ya to do it."

"Um… don't mention it."

Jak closely considered the happy face regarding him so earnestly. Yep, that was Daxter, without a doubt. He had the same expressive eyes, ears, smile, body language. After that epiphany the grab was totally reflexive. Daxter squealed in surprise as he was lifted from the floor and hugged firmly to Jak's dusty chest.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey! Watch the fur, sweetheart! Static in the desert is hell!"

"Sorry." With one more squeeze for good measure Jak forced himself to put his friend down. "I just… thought I might never see you again. I was worried. I'm glad you decided to come back, Dax."

"Yeah, well." The ottsel shrugged uncomfortably and suddenly became very interested in the pattern on the rug. "It's not like I got anythin' better to do at the moment." Then his roving eyes landed on Jak's belt, and lit up. "Hey! You found my gear!"

"Huh?"

Before Jak could ask, eager fingers were scrabbling at the goggles secured to his belt. Oh, of course. He sat back so the straps could be worked loose a bit easier. Daxter's eagerness surprised him. It wouldn't have occurred to him that Dax would even want the goggles back. He would have thought they would be just one more reminder of bondage, but apparently that wasn't so.

Looking inordinately pleased, Daxter restored the headgear to its rightful place. Surprisingly, it didn't look any sillier on him now than it had when he was human. "Where'd ya find 'em, big guy?"

"The servants who messed with you last night had them." Last night. It seemed like so much longer ago than that. "Hey. Since when am I 'big guy'?"

Daxter grinned cheekily. "Since about two weeks after I got drug into this hellhole kickin' and tryin' to scream. You were the only one who was even a little bit nice to me." The grin turned into a mellower, somehow more affectionate smile. "I just knew you were the only nice guy in a joint full'a assholes. Glad ya proved it."

Jak smiled back. His hand was drifting out again, the ottsel was inching closer to it with an accommodating look in his eye, when—the door was literally slammed open. Jak jumped a mile and Daxter disappeared, quick as a flash, under the bed.

"I am literally begging you, Jak, come down to dinner with me and run damage control so I don't lose it and murder that man!" Keira was seething. Still worked up from the argument with Samos that Jak could only assume has escalated after he had left, she was now too angry to notice her friend sitting on the rug in the middle of a very messy bedchamber. "I swear, from the way my father carries on you'd think I was still in diapers! The nerve of that guy…"

"Uh, yeah! Sure, Keira, I'm coming."

It didn't matter that he hadn't had a chance to wash up yet. No one would notice. The sooner he got downstairs and made a token appearance at the table the sooner he could retire for the evening and ask Daxter some of the many questions that were already itching to be answered. With one lingering look to the still-swaying bed hangings Jak surged to his feet and darted into the washroom for a quick brush up and face wash. Keira stalked around the room like a ruffled lioness, muttering angrily to herself as Jak sloshed water and threw rumpled towels.

"Okay, I'm ready. Sorry about that."

"Finally. Let's get this over with. If I look like I'm about to start pulling my hair out or lunge across the table you have to hold me down, okay?"

"Right."

With exaggerated politeness Jak held the door open for his friend, who stomped through without acknowledging the gesture. Before he closed it fully, though, he chanced a look back into the room. Daxter was peeking out from under the bed. Catching sight of the prince's gaze, he perked up and flashed the hand signal Jak had come to understand as "fruit!" Jak slowly smiled back, and nodded minutely. He got it.

Despite Keira's grousing, walking down to dinner was a happier affair with a heartfelt thumbs up and a fuzzy grin held firmly in his mind. He only hoped there was plenty of fruit to choose from at the table.

-//-//-//-//-

"Mmm. Nice haul, big guy!"

Jak watched, incredibly amused, as the fruit he had smuggled back upstairs in his napkin was inhaled with alarming speed. That Daxter hadn't eaten that day was obvious. He had juice stains and pulp in the yellow fuzz all around his mouth, and was still smacking loudly away at what little was left.

"Don't forget there's some bread there, too. That'll help fill you up."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm getting to the bread."

Jak watched, almost fascinated. The mixture of cognizant animal and the human boy he was used to was incredible—especially with how cutely he was eating. Draped across his bed with his chin propped on crossed arms, the green-blonde observed his smaller friend closely. He had always rather liked animals, but besides the leaper lizards and the occasional crocadog kept by the gate sentries as an extra precaution Spargus as a whole had no use for frivolous pets. He wondered if he could persuade Daxter to sit on his lap now. It would be in a different context, sure, but he was willing to bet it would be enjoyable nonetheless.

Eventually Daxter noticed the close scrutiny. He eyed Jak warily, licking the last of the fruit juice off his fingers. "Don't get any funny ideas, pal. I wasn't yer pet before and I ain't gonna be yer pet now."

Jak jolted somewhat guiltily. "Yeah, I know. Sorry for staring."

"S'okay. Long as we're on the same page with that." Looking more reassured, Daxter quickly wolfed down the thick slice of buttered bread that had been set aside. Then, licking crumbs from almost invisible whiskers, he unexpectedly hopped up on the bed beside Jak. "I tell ya what, this has been some kind'a day."

"Yeah. Yeah, it has."

Jak rolled over slightly to accommodate the extra presence of the ottsel. He could hardly believe it, but it almost seemed like Daxter was saying he was going to be spending another night in the prince's company.

"So, Jak. How's preppin' to get smashed by that bad guy's army goin' for ya?"

_Blunt little hairball_, Jak thought. "It's going just fine, thanks. We can handle it."

Sitting up, Jak came almost nose to nose with the ottsel, who seemed to be getting comfortable on the pillow he had liked so much the night before. But it was probably better not think of what else had happened last night. Little animals, even talking ones, were not to be seen as acceptable bed partners in that particular fashion. For the first time, the thought made Jak feel a little moody. He tried to push it firmly away. He had his friend back in one piece. No matter what that piece looked like, and no matter what restrictions it dropped on their formerly budding romantic relationship, he would be content with it. As content as he was able, anyway.

"Dax, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," came the casual answer. "I'm all ears. Fire away."

Excellent. He had a mental list ready, in fact. "Where did you go this morning?"

"Around."

Jak blinked. The instantly offered reply was rather vague. "Uh… okay. How did you get down off the balcony so fast? I ran over there and didn't even see you in the gardens. That's too high for a human to jump from, let alone someone your size."

"I have my subtle ways." Daxter smirked smugly, kicking the pillow into shape. He seemed bent on keeping mum, for whatever reason. But there was no good reason, not that the prince could see.

"Unless you can suddenly sprout wings on that little weasel back of yours, then I'm stumped." Jak couldn't help but laugh. He might not be getting any answers, but Dax's cheeky personality was sure shining through. "Come on, you can tell me. Is it some closely guarded ottsel secret?"

"You might say that."

Jak poked playfully under tiny ribs and tickled with the tip of one finger, reducing Dax to doubling over in a sudden fit of giggles. He was still ticklish, even when furry. Good. "Just spill the beans, Dax. I won't tell anybody. Can you use some kind of magic?"

Daxter feigned complete ignorance and skirted the issue neatly, bounding away from Jak's tickling touches. "Jeez, would ya look at the time? I think somebody ought'a be gettin' some sleep fer that big battle tomorrow! Go on and brush yer teeth fer bed, you naughty boy."

"So that's how you're going to play, huh?" Jak cracked his knuckles threateningly, but couldn't hide a smirk. "Well, I have ways of making you talk."

"No, no, no, no, no—!" Daxter yelped and jumped for it as Jak lunged.

The chase that followed decimated what was left of the large bed. Sheets and blankets slid from their places as the green-blonde scrambled for his quarry, who was now small enough to easily slip among the covers like an eel. Pillows flew. The curtains came loose at their moorings and fluttered around one side of the bedstead. Finally Jak succeeded in a mid-air catch when the ottsel tried to leap to the freedom of the nightstand.

"Gotcha!" He flipped the loudly protesting creature over easily. After only a moment's struggle Daxter went limp, upside down in his friend's arms. He was panting slightly for breath, but grinning just the same.

"Okay. Okay. I give. You win."

"A wise choice." Gently Jak allowed himself to pet the soft fur under his hand. Daxter's tail twitched contentedly, draped over the crook of his elbow. "Dax?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you come back?"

The former slave shrugged as well as he was able from his languid, upside-down position. Was it Jak's imagination, or did he look almost embarrassed? "Well, _somebody's_ gotta keep an eye on ya."

"Right. Of course."

With a fond sigh Jak set Daxter back on the bed and began to clean it up. He would have demanded help from the other guilty party, if only said party wasn't too small to do anything but drag the pillows back where they belonged. The covers were entirely up to him. It took several minutes for the bed to be made presentable again, during which time Jak unexpectedly turned up Daxter's discarded slave collar that had been forgotten among the tangled bedding that morning. Noting the ottsel's sour glare he prudently tossed it away. Out of sight, out of mind. As he had expected, Dax immediately loosened up.

"You turnin' in already, then?"

"Yeah, I'm going to get cleaned up for real and get some sleep while I can. Apparently wars are notorious for sleep deprivation."

"Aww, but that's no fun!"

"Excuse me? You just said yourself I should get some rest."

Jak shifted through his furniture chests for cleaner clothes, not missing the little snort behind him. This was better than he ever could have imagined, finally hearing Daxter banter back and forth with him like this. It was almost worth the sacrifice of their hard won physical intimacy. It really was a pity he couldn't have both at the same time… but that really might have been flipping off fate, in asking for more than the good luck he had already gotten.

"Hey, Jak? I got a better idea fer what we can do."

"Oh, really." The prince dug deeper into a drawer in search of a favorite tunic for bed. "What might that be?"

"Let's try that sex thing again."

He almost burst out laughing. Almost. Would have, if he didn't think it would have hurt Daxter's feelings. Trying to keep his shoulders from shaking too much, Jak quickly calmed his silent attack of mirth. Whoa. His eyes were watering with suppressed laughter. Subtly he wiped the moisture away. It wouldn't do for Dax to think that Jak cared about him any less in what was apparently his natural state—that wasn't true at all. But there were plenty of other reasons that a cross-species barrier might be hard to surmount romantically. Best to let the little guy down gently. He cleared his throat with some difficulty.

"Uh… I don't think that would work out so well now, Dax."

"Why not?"

He couldn't wipe the amused grin off his face. The grain in the lid of the wooden clothing chest seemed like a safe, humorless detail to fix his eyes on while he schooled his features neutral. "Well, for one thing, I'm a lot bigger than you now. Your body's a lot different than you were last night. You might get hurt."

"Pssh. What, is that all?"

"Pretty much, yeah." It wasn't that sex with an ottsel would be _wrong_, per se, since the furball in question was sentient, intelligent, and obviously willing. But shed fur would be bound to get into some pretty interesting places and… this was neither the time nor the place to begin a discussion like that. "Stuff like that really works out better when you're roughly the same as your partner."

"Oh. Well, in that case…"

Jak gathered his clean garments with a last affectionate chuckle. If he had thought it was impossible to be bored around Daxter before, he couldn't wait to find out how often he would have occasion to laugh around him now. He turned around—and immediately dropped his bundle of clothes with a startled jolt.

Upside down on his bed, smirking coyly at him and crooking a finger in an obvious "come hither," was Daxter... human once more.

* * *

To be continued…

* * *

(2nd)AN: Uh-oh. Looks like Jak's troubles are far from over, with an enemy force massing just outside the palace walls and a teasing shape-shifter in his bed who seems to raise more mysteries than answers. What's a prince to do?!

Outtakes!

- - - - -

Torn: Jak? Jak! JAK MAR—pay attention, dammit!

Jak: Hmm? *clueless*

Torn: (aside) The future of this city hinges on a moping, lovesick space cadet. We're doomed.

Jak: You shouldn't mumble, Torn. Good leaders practice clear communication.

Torn: If I put in my resume to Praxis' team, would that be considered blatant treason, or a proactive move toward curing my constant tension headaches…?

- - - - -

Keira: What the heck is this? The minute I move on and get a new love interest, your redheaded bed boy runs away!

Jak: That's life, I guess.

Keira: The hell it is, bub! Don't think I'm coming back to you. No I'm not. *snub!*

Jak: (sigh) It's official. Some deity somewhere hates my guts.

- - - - -

Jak: (overjoyed) Daxter! You came back!

Ottsel Dax: Yes, Jak! I care about you to much to stay away, and I—

Jak: Wait a second. You're a weasel. I can't screw a weasel! What gives?!

Ottsel Dax: I ought'a bite you. I ought'a bite you so hard…

- - - - -

Jak: Daxter! You came back! *opens arms for a hug*

Dax: You bet I did, buster. *runs past Jak and dives on the pillow* Baby, I missed you!

Jak: … Princes don't cry. Princes don't cry! *cries*

- - - - -


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** I'm so sorry it's taken this long to update. A lot's been going on lately, with school and personal life alike. I'll try to be more diligent from now on. My writing is my therapy, and I need to start making time for it again. Everybody wins that way.

**Characters:** Jak, Daxter, and all their friends (and enemies) belong to Naughty Dog.

* * *

Jak felt every muscle tense. He backed up before he could catch himself and stand his ground against someone he had to forcefully remember was a friend. He swallowed hard and tried to make his mouth form words. "What… _are_ you?"

Daxter offered him an upside down smile before rolling quickly onto his stomach and beckoning the prince closer again. "I'm your buddy Daxter. It's okay, Jak."

Like hell it was! This was magic unlike any he had ever heard about, let alone seen practically right before his eyes! People did not simply turn themselves into chatty little animals and back again whenever the fancy struck them. As much as part of him wanted to, he made no move to approach the bed and its amazingly odd occupant.

The redhead's rather impatient expression melted into fond amusement. Apparently deducing that Jak wouldn't be coming to him, he slid easily off the mattress and began to walk slowly up to his wary target. "Relax, big guy. Yer my friend. You know I'd never hurt ya, right?"

"I'd like to think not."

"Well, I wouldn't. Even after our little dust up last night." He seemed to consider. "Especially after that. Yeah, I'd never hurt ya."

Jak couldn't help but notice that, for all the reassurance, Daxter did not try to deny that he may be able, in one way or another, to harm the prince. Just that he would not do so given the chance. It was a bit disconcerting—but still, for all that, he was unable to ignore the subtle swagger of Dax's hips as he came closer.

"You know, Dax, it would go a long way toward making me comfortable if you'd just tell me what the hell is going on here. What are you, really? Where did you come from? What kind of magic do you have?"  
"Dang, buddy, you sure ask a lot'a questions!" Laughing lightly, Daxter finally made it close enough to place a hand lightly on Jak's bare chest. "Listen. I can't tell ya all of what's going on, not yet. That's not my job. But I can tell ya that you'll get it soon enough, okay? That's the best I can do. You'll just have to trust me on the rest."

Jak blinked. "Trust you."

"Mm-hmm. Is that so hard?" It was almost a purr, the hand boldly skating up to run a finger beneath Jak's goatee and coax an involuntary shiver.

"It is when you're making me think you were completely pretending to be afraid of me last night. Why the sudden change of heart?"

A blush abruptly lit freckled cheeks. Daxter's hand dropped from Jak's face to rub uncomfortably at a thin upper arm. "Er. Um. Well—damn it, Jak, you'd be freaked out too if you were totally at somebody's mercy and it looked like they were about ta do bad things to ya! Heck no I wasn't fakin' it, jeez!"

That made just enough sense for the prince to believe it wholeheartedly. Of course Daxter's confidence had been given a huge boost between then and now. Rather than being trapped in an alien form, bereft of his strange powers and unsure of what was about to happen, he was now free of any and all restraints. At the top of his game. Or, so Jak assumed.

"So, you're saying that if we try this again and something happens that you don't enjoy, I might wind up all of a sudden making love to a protesting weasel?" Jak laughed a little at the thought.

"That's ottsel to you, pretty-boy! Ottsel, with an 'ott'!" The hand was back, a forefinger jabbing pointedly at the middle of Jak's chest.

Despite his lingering apprehension, Jak couldn't help himself. He reached forward and pulled Daxter firmly against his chest, trapping the redhead's poking hands between them. He laughed at the disgruntled look on his friend's face. "Haven't you learned by now that it's rude to jab at royalty?"

"Haven't ya learned by now I don't give a flip?"

"Touché."

They were both grinning when their lips met. Jak held on like he would never let go. And why wouldn't he, when he had been sure just that morning that we would never see his friend again? Vaguely, he hoped he hadn't simply fallen asleep on his bed with his boots on and was just dreaming all this up. It was definitely strange enough to be a dream.

Dax certainly felt real enough, though. His hands tangled in the soft hair at the back of the prince's neck, almost kneading it is the kiss deepened. He leaned fully into Jak's arms, entirely trusting, seeming to enjoy the petting caresses drifting up and down his bare back.

Over the redhead's wild hair and goggles, Jak could see the recently made up bed. Feeling giddy and devious at the same time, he began to unobtrusively back them toward it. Daxter had said he wanted to try this again. Who was he to object to a direct request like that?

"Huh?" Daxter stumbled a bit at the first step backward, pulling away to glance down at where his feet were headed, but almost immediately he caught on to Jak's intentions. "Oh, I get it. That's right, Jak. Bed. Good boy!"

"For someone who doesn't want to be a pet, you seem awful ready to treat me like one."

Jak bent slightly, got his arms around Daxter just beneath the ribcage, and heaved. There was a squeal of laughter as they both tumbled across the bed, effectively rumpling the covers back toward their previous state of disarray. Light wrestling ensued, Daxter pretending to try to squirm away and Jak pulling him easily back into his clutches across the soft blankets. There was accidental tickling, not-so-accidental groping, and the delivery of countless sloppy kisses.

The green-blonde was pressing himself between willingly spread legs, hearing Daxter's coo of approval against his cheek and fumbling for his own belt on a shuddering sigh of anticipation, when a thunderous boom echoed across the palace grounds. As one, two pairs of eyes riveted on the gently fluttering curtains of the balcony entryway.

Jak's ears shot up in concentration. "What in the world…?"

The sound came again, even louder and more insistent. And this time, right behind it, came an echoing bang against Jak's door. The prince was immensely glad he'd had the foresight to lock it when he came in from dinner, when he had been wary of someone waltzing in and possibly catching sight of Daxter in his animal guise wolfing down fruit on his rug.

"Who's there?"

"Get your ass out of bed, Jak!" Torn's voice was unmistakable, and unmistakably on edge. "I need you out on the outer wall and ready to rumble, as soon as you can get there. We have company."

As the commander's heavy footsteps echoed away down the corridor at a smart military clip, Jak swore. This was just not his day. It was as if the universe was conspiring to keep him from the ultimate goal of intimacy with his redhead. Still firmly _his_ redhead, in Jak's mind, even though the charmed slave collar was long gone. He was just possessive that way.

Untangling himself from Daxter was harder than it should have been with invaders at the gates and possibly ready to mount an assault. The grumpy pout on a freckled face as he pulled away made it even harder. Forcing himself up from the warm and cozy indent they had made in the mattress, Jak grabbed for his boots and sword belt, the steel that belonged with the latter having been reclaimed from his attendant after the evening meal. A prince's work was never done.

Still draped across the bed, Daxter sighed, freckled cheek propped on a spread palm. "These guys sure know how ta ruin a good time. Think they'd come back in the morning if we asked real nice?"

"I wouldn't count on it." Jak frowned, cramming a foot back into one clunky, knee-high boot. The strange booming sound, almost like thunder, rolled through the room once more as he reached for the second. "What the hell is that noise? It sounds like it's coming from the city gate."

"It doesn't sound like explodin' eco, either." The redhead bounced upright, also listening carefully now.

Jak had to hold back a snort. Of course it wouldn't be eco. Yellow and red eco were dangerous enough for one person to handle separately and in very small amounts. Mixing the two could theoretically cause powerful explosions, but therein lay the problem. Trying to channel enough of the volatile stuff to attempt an attack on a massive structure like the Spargus gates would likely blow the idiot who tried it clean apart.

"Probably not eco, Dax. If this Erol guy has a brain in his skull he wouldn't try something that risky. Not much good marching an army across the wastelands if you're going to turn around and get them blown up outside the town you're trying to invade."

For a moment Daxter looked confused, head tilting to one side and ears flicking haphazardly. Then his eyes widened in realization. "Ooooh. Yeah, I guess yer right. Fer a minute there I forgot you guys can't handle much of the sparkly ooze."

You guys. Humans. A wave of unsettlement washed over Jak, a cool shiver up his spine as he watched the ottsel-turned-redhead hop nimbly off his bed. He didn't know whether or not he wanted to forget that Daxter was vastly different from himself and his entire species, but he didn't think he would ever be able to. Not completely.

But they could work around that. If Daxter was able to continue this fluid transition between furry talking animal and Jak's seemingly human best friend, they could. He would do everything in his power to make sure of it.

"What are you doing?"

Daxter was tossing up the lid of the nearest clothing trunk. "Stealin' yer digs, pal. I'm goin' with ya an' I can't go furless without somethin' ta wear."

Jak stared as Dax slipped easily into a pair of his pants. They were at least twice too big on his skinny frame, making the smaller boy grope for a belt inside the trunk. "The hells you are! You're going to stay right here in this room until I come back."

"Yeah, sure I am. You just keep tellin' yerself that, big guy." An overlarge tunic was hurriedly shrugged into, leaving wild bonfire hair even wilder as Dax tugged it down over his head. The garment hung on him comically, as if he were a child playing at trying on his big brother's clothing.

"Daxter, I am serious." This called for his best princely tone—commanding, dripping authority. Jak drew himself up to his full height, put his fists on his hips, and stared hard at the little critter-boy who dared oppose him. "I didn't take that collar off you and tell you to leave just so you could get found out and put back in chains. And I definitely didn't do it so you could follow me onto a battlefield and get killed."

"Uh, hello, Reality to Jak! That was then, this is now. In case ya forgot, I ain't so helpless anymore. I can look out fer myself. No one's puttin' a collar back on me, I can tell ya that straight up." The chain of a long cloak was pulled across a delicately pale throat and clipped into place. Jak watched it with interest. "I'm not makin' that mistake twice."

Two different sides of Jak's brain warred. They were wasting precious time.

"You being seen back here is still going to cause more trouble than we can afford right now. Either stay here and hide, or turn back into a wea—ottsel. I think I could hide you under my cloak that way." If Daxter were that close to him, crouched on his shoulder under his hood, perhaps, it would be much easier to keep him out of danger.

Barefoot, the redhead turned to face him. Barefoot he would have to stay; there was no way he was fitting into Jak's footwear. He would step right out of them. "I can't! I use up a lot'a energy doin' that. It takes me a while ta charge up, I guess you'd say, 'fore I can turn one or the other." Daxter's ears fell, an almost pained expression flitting across his face. "If I'd known that sooner, me an' you never would'a even met."

There was a story there begging to be asked for and told, but this was neither the time nor the place. Jak resolved to hear it someday if it killed him as he quickly put on his goggles and wrapped his headscarf. Right now, against his better judgment, they had to go. And it didn't seem like he was going to be winning this argument.

"Alright. Fine. You can come, this time. Stay as close beside me as you can. Odds are there won't be any real fighting tonight if they can't break through the gates, and those should hold. But if anything serious happens, or anyone acts like they recognize you, I want you to get out of there as fast as you can. At least promise me that."

Damn it. He was going to have to get used to the fact that Dax was no longer under his sway by any power besides that of affection. No longer a slave and no real citizen of Spargus, technically the strange redhead didn't have to listen to a damn thing he said. Not that he ever really had, come to think of it.

"You bet, Jakkie-boy." Looking happier, Daxter flashed him a very positive hand signal and pulled up the hood on his borrowed cloak. Like everything else he had purloined it was too big, the fabric drooping down over his face and goggles in an effective disguise. "Ready when you are."

* * *

Night chill hung heavy over the city wall as Jak and Daxter hurried along it toward the parapet over the gate. Behind them, the palace lay dark and still. Beneath them, the city was preparing for battle. Excited shouts and the clank of weapons echoed in the clear night. Jak shivered slightly and pulled his cloak closer, wishing he had thought to make his friend put on some socks, at least. The stone walk under bare feet must have been downright freezing.

Dax stuck close, as he had promised. The haphazard disguise he had concocted seemed to be working well, for the moment. No one had given the smaller form at the prince's side a second look in the hustle and bustle atop the walls. It was more than possible he had been mistaken in the dark for another of the usual attendants, and that was fine by the two of them. So far, so good.

"Jak. Over here." Torn was stationed on the wall directly over the gate. On high alert, his tattooed ears stood almost vertical as he gazed out across the desert. Just over the nearest dunes the glow of firelight lit the night. The sands burned red and orange, beautiful against all odds.

By his side, Keira stared in awe at what could have been the glitter and bob of several thousand torches, a hood pushed back from her pretty face. "There are so many of them… Looks like Erol lied about how many troops he had, after all." She snorted somewhat bitterly, in a most unladylike fashion.

"Don't bank too much on what the opposition looks like by night," Torn advised calmly. He wasn't the head of Damas' military for nothing. "You may notice they refuse to come any closer than the cover of the dunes. Odds are they want to hide their numbers for as long as possible. If a few hundred troops hold a light in each hand, you've automatically doubled your strength in the minds of the enemy. Until morning, anyway, when you've had a chance to make camp without the threat of being rushed before you're ready to meet the challenge."

After a long look at the dunes, Jak peered down over the wall. Cold wind ruffled his hair. The rough stone of the parapet scraped at his palms. Noticing what he was up to Daxter immediately followed suit, taking care to stay beside his friend and as far away from Torn as he could. Down below, a long, dark shape lay motionless before the gates.

Jak straightened up, looking to his long-time instructor for validation. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but does that look like a really massive tree trunk down there?"

A smirk flitted across Torn's lips. "They've been trying to batter down the gate with it for the past half hour. Just gave up before you got down here, in fact."

"Huh. Well, it's a damn shame if they actually carted that heavy thing clean across the wastelands. I'd like to see 'em knock down rock and metal gates with a big stick of wood."

Jak glanced over his shoulder at the new voice, then had to smile. "Sig. Good to see you."

"Likewise, chili pepper." The big soldier grinned back cheerfully. "Looks like we're all here and ready to get this party started, don't it?" He leaned against the wall at Torn's side, battle ax propped against the stone, ever ready for a word of command. "Now it just depends on whether or not our guests still want to play."

There was a sudden swift tug at Jak's cloak. "Jak! Look down there."

Following Daxter's whispered direction, the green-blonde turned his attention down below once more. Two single lights were moving out of the enemy encampment, steadily drawing nearer to the city walls. His eyes narrowed. "Heads up, guys. Incoming."

Silence spread across the wall like a bolt of thick cloth unrolling. Speech died to whispers, the clanking of weapons stilled. Sounds from below petered out as the stillness on the wall top caught on down in the city proper. The rogue lights came ever nearer, a steady march. The rest continued to keep their distance.

Jak prowled nearer to Torn, ears flicking erratically despite his best efforts to keep them still. This was it. His first real battle where lines and sides and strategies were clearly defined, not simply fighting tooth and claw for survival on the spur of the moment in a mid-desert attack by roving Marauders. The prince was as excited as he was nervous.

"Torn. Where's my dad? If this is some kind of negotiation attempt he'll want to be here. We'll need him here."

"He'll be here soon. Some last minute orders for the main troops down on the grounds." The commander's back stayed ramrod straight, his ears perfectly still. A stalwart hound of battle next to Jak's pacing, largely inexperienced pup. "Steady, soldier. You'll get your chance soon enough. I'll consider us lucky if the first skirmish holds off until sunup."

"Right."

The thought that a clash of forces could actually be imminent made Jak return immediately to Daxter's side. Trying to avoid attention, he leaned marginally closer to his smaller friend.

"Dax." It was the barest whisper he could muster, out the side of his mouth while he stared straight ahead. "Remember what I said. If things heat up, get back to the palace and hide. Or get out of the city altogether, if you can. We're strong, but they do outnumber us. This might get ugly."

"Don't wanna leave you."

The reply was so soft that Jak honestly wondered if he had heard it at all. But there was no mistaking it when the redhead moved marginally closer, their arms brushing. It warmed Jak's heart indescribably. Slowly he reached over, under the cover of his cloak, and brushed Daxter's hand lightly with his own. After the pause of a heartbeat, careful fingers brushed back.

"I'm stayin'. You might need me."

At that moment, with his friends at his back and Daxter at his side, Jak felt he could take on the world. The feeling was sustained as the bearers of the lights came to a halt near the wall, prudently out of range of javelins, arrows, and sling stones, and Jak looked down for the first time into the face of the enemy.

* * *

To be continued…

* * *

**(2****nd****)AN: **I suppose I also ought to say something about chapter length. Yes, this one is shorter than normal. But it needed to be, really, because this is the best place possible to pause before launching into what happens next. The next chapter will be of a more normal length. Thank you for your cooperation.

And now, some outtakes.

- - - - -

Jak: (throws Daxter on the bed) Finally! It's about damn time!

Torn: (bangs on the door) Jak! Something incredibly important has happened that needs your urgent attention!

Jak: What the hell do you need?!

Torn: Your father was playing with his diorama and has lost his Baron Praxis figure. He can't enjoy a miniature battle without an archrival for his Damas figure to vanquish. Everyone in the palace is required to come help him find it.

Jak: … are you serious?

- - - - -

Torn: (bangs on the door) Jak! I need your help with something very important!

Jak: What is it now?!

Torn: Actually, I forget. I was hoping you could remind me. It does seem like there was something important I had to tell you… Come to think of it, remind me to turn off the stove in my quarters before the fighting starts, would you? I'd hate to forget and leave it on. Again.

Daxter: Is this guy for real?

Jak: Unfortunately…

Torn: Don't worry, I'll think of it!

- - - - -

Torn: (bangs on the door) Jak!

Jak: For the love of Mar, I am busy! If the palace is not under attack or on fire or infested with Velociraptors, go away!

Torn: … does an infestation of mildly threatening sand lizards count?

Jak: No!!

- - - - -

Torn: (bangs on door) Jak!

Jak: Precursors help you if this is not of deadly importance.

Torn: The city is under attack! I need you out on the walls, now!

Jak: … for real this time?

Torn: Yes, it's imperative that you drop everything and come with me!

Jak: You swear? This isn't something stupid? You really need me to defend my kingdom from certain doom?

Torn: Yes. Really.

Jak: *sigh* Okay. I'll be out in a minute.

Sig: (giggles) When you gonna tell him it's a false alarm? When you gonna tell him?

Torn: (snickers) Shut up, man, he'll hear you! Let's wait until he gets his pants up.

- - - - -

Jak: (gets out of bed) Sorry, Dax, but our celebratory lovemaking session will have to wait.

Daxter: I think somebody's priorities are a little skewed.

Jak: Hey, I don't like it any more than you do! Just stay here where it's safe and wait for me, alright?

Daxter: Oh, okay. I guess I'll just be up here all alone, then… finding creative ways to entertain myself… (stretches alluringly across the bed and grabs his favorite pillow)

Jak: … that is not even fair. (cries)

- - - - -


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** We have action, peeps! Whoo! I'm likin' this action. We also have more sexy-times. So for all of you who read just for that, we're in your ballpark, too. Onward!

- - - - -

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc. But one day, when I rule the world…

* * *

"Might someone up there go by the name of Jak?"

The oily-smooth voice sent a shiver up the prince's spine. He stepped closer to the raised edge of the wall, however, into the ring of light thrown by torches wedged between the rough stone blocks. Clearing his throat, he called down firmly. "I'm Jak. Who goes there?"

"Careful, soldier." Torn also stepped nearer, warily eyeballing the intruders below. "Be ready. You never know what they could be planning."

"Ah, good evening, Jak. My apologies for causing such an uproar at this hour, but I've heard so much about you that I simply couldn't wait to make your acquaintance. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Erol."

Praxis' general smiled like a snake, Jak decided. Even from such a distance, he could discern that much. The smirk was accented by dark facial tattoos, not unlike Torn's, and a somehow sinister metal mask was pushed up high atop his head. It gleamed in the torchlight like a naked skull in an open grave. Beside the general a second, more diminutive, figure stood, hooded and cloaked. It remained silent, passive, still. Watching and listening. Waiting.

Beside Jak, Daxter shivered slightly. The prince tried not to jump—he hadn't realized he had been followed. Frowning, he tugged the redhead discretely behind him once more, out of the enemy's line of sight.

"Erol, you should be aware that bringing an army to these gates is an open declaration of war on the kingdom of Spargus. Leave now and we will consider this trespass forgiven in full."

There was a low chuckle, perfectly audible on the silent breeze. "Leave? But we've just arrived. Where would be the fun in that?"

"Nothing is easy," Sig muttered resignedly from somewhere behind and to the right. "Wish he'd just get to the damn point."

"State your purpose, then." This man was rubbing Jak the wrong way, and not just because he presumed to stage a hostile takeover of the patch of sand the lineage of Mar now called home. "Leave, or it's war. We won't surrender, if that's what you're trying to get at."

"Of course not. Presuming you would surrender would be most rude of me. But I am also forced to assume that you have some idea of the danger you're in. The chances of a victory on your part are slim to none." Erol's voice took on a flattering tone. "Nevertheless, a kingdom of such efficient warriors deserves the utmost respect. Spargus' reputation has spread far and wide. _Your_ reputation in particular, Jak. It would be a true shame for such a proud nation to be crushed into the dust of oblivion simply because it was vastly outmanned in battle. And surrender, the only other easily apparent option, would be most undignified. A real pity, that."

"I don't think I quite understand what you're getting at, then. If you don't want to destroy us, and you don't expect us to surrender, why are you here?"

Daxter snorted quietly, peeking around the edge of Jak's cloak. "I'm guessin' it's not because they wanna borrow a cup of sugar. Just a thought."

"Will you get back?!" Jak hissed, trying hard not to spare too much of his attention on his friend. He was dealing with a serious political situation, here! But there was no denying that if the redhead wouldn't just be still and silent, blending into the background and behaving like one of the regular attendants, then there was no way he wasn't going to get found out. Sig at least was already looking at him strangely. This wasn't the time or the place.

Erol hadn't seemed to notice the disturbance on the wall top. He continued smoothly. "You speak your mind, Jak. I admire that. No beating around the bush. You're a credit to your kingdom"

The two on the sand were slowly drifting closer to the wall. The cloaked figure seemed less comfortable with that. They hung back behind Erol, almost wavering. Jak wondered who they were, and what their purpose could be. Surely a general wouldn't bring random lackeys to the front to converse with the opposition. They had to be someone of import in Praxis' sphere.

"I suppose it would be only proper for me to speak my mind, as well," Erol called confidently. "We have a proposition for you, Jak, Baron Praxis and I. It would be to your benefit to consider it."

The prince looked automatically to Torn. "Your opinion?"

Torn frowned, moodily intent on the torch-lit presence of the camped forces beyond the dunes. Dim, flickering light played across his chiseled face, mingling strange shadows with the familiar tattoos Jak had seen nearly every day of his life. "Proceed with caution. There's no harm in hearing what he's got to say. But commit to nothing, and don't put absolute trust in anything he says. That army is there for a reason. He's not here to make friends."

"Right." Jak nodded, then turned back to business. He really was thankful for Torn and the older man's expertise, his calmness in the face of impending strife. "We're listening, Erol. But no promises."

"Fair enough." The tone was pleased, smooth as silk. Amiable, even. "However, I don't believe this mode of conversation is comfortable for either one of us. Yelling from the battlements is unnecessary, wouldn't you agree? It would be more practical to meet face to face, like civilized human beings."

"You're not getting back in here," Jak called flatly. How dumb did this guy think he was? The fox had already been in the chicken coop once. He wasn't going to open the door and politely invite it back in.

"I understand your caution wholeheartedly. And I, at least, am perfectly willing to host a discussion in my temporary quarters." Erol gestured back toward the camp, where a commanders' tent would surely have been set up for him. "Or even right here before your gates, if mingling with my friends unsettles you. It's up to you, Jak."

"Give us a minute." Stepping back from the wall, Jak turned to Torn, Sig, and Keira. Daxter was a warm, reassuring presence pressed unobtrusively at his side. "Okay, guys. What's our battle plan?"

Torn's frown seemed etched in stone. "I don't like it. There's too much opportunity for them to try something. And I can't understand why Erol is so intent on parlaying with you, Jak, and not your father. Surely he knows that Damas is the king of Spargus. Why waste time talking with underlings? I can't believe he wouldn't go straight to the top of the chain of command if he had a mind to."

"Yeah, that is weird. And he said he had a proposition for you. You, specifically. I wonder what it is." Keira's pretty head cocked curiously.

"I don't know," Jak answered slowly. "But whatever it is, I feel like I need to at least consider it. He's right—at best guess, we're outnumbered. Think about what happens if we actually meet them in battle. Victory of any kind is a long shot. And if we just sit here and accept a siege, we could only hold out for so long, anyway." The prince's hand closed determinedly on the hilt of his sword. "I'll go down and talk to him."

Torn shook his head negatively. "Jak, I—"

"It could avert a war, Commander. I'll go."

"Not by yerself!" Daxter burst out next to him. "Yer insane if ya think walkin' out there without backup's a good idea! Uh… Yer Highness."

Jak fought the urge to slap a palm to his forehead in despair as all eyes suddenly focused on his loudmouthed friend. Not that he wasn't pleased that Dax was looking out for his well-being, but the redhead obviously had no idea what the terms "subtlety" or "incognito" meant. Jak could only hope that the darkness, the hood, and the fact that no one had ever heard Daxter speak out loud before would be enough to keep his identity unknown.

"Your page has a point," Torn said finally, eyes still settled suspiciously on the sheepish figure hovering at Jak's side. "Meeting the enemy alone is suicide. If you insist on doing this you're going to take some of the soldiers with you."

"Fine." Jak nodded, and stepped back to the battlements. Keira and Daxter trailed along on opposite sides. The green-blonde tensed, ever at the ready to grab one or both of his companions and sling them for cover in the event of treacherous missiles from the darkness below. "Erol!"

"Here and awaiting your word."

"I accept your proposed meeting to discuss… whatever it is you want to discuss. But the gates, when they open, will be heavily guarded. An ambush would be highly unwise. Also, I'll have troops in my attendance. If you try to double cross us, we'll be ready. And you will be sorry." Jak let the threat hang. No empty boasting there. Cocky but ultimately foolish Marauders and countless ill-tempered metal heads alike could attest to the ferocity of Spargian soldiers on the best of days, let alone when they were caught in a pinch.

Keira chose that moment to lean over the edge for a better look. Her blue eyes and hair gleamed, the goggles around her neck glinted like stars in the torchlight. Jak automatically reached out to gently grasp the corner of her cloak, the rough material scratching between his fingers, and then felt silly for it. Keira was a big girl. She wasn't going to fall off the wall, or something.

It took a moment for Erol to respond. He stood silently, eyes trained fixedly on Keira. Recognition dawned, and a smirk of what could almost have been grudging admiration flitted across his face. "Of course. I'll see you down here in a few minutes, then. And, by all means… do bring company."

* * *

Daxter scampered down the steps barely a stride behind Jak as they descended to the street below the wall. "Jak! Hey, slow down!"

As they were alone, the green-blonde didn't make any move to shut his friend up. Torn and Sig had taken an alternate route from the wall top, hoping to meet Damas and Samos to deliver an emergency update on what had just transpired. It was likely that Torn would also be rushing to collect a suitable group of soldiers to accompany Jak on his little outing.

Troops were already in formation near the gates, at the ready in the not altogether unlikely event of a surprise attack. The city was still painfully quiet, young children and the few non-military citizens locked safely in their homes until the immediate threat passed. Somewhere a guard crocadog barked gruffly. Overhead, a million stars shone brightly in the blackness of the desert sky.

Jak slowed the slightest bit, allowing Daxter to match his pace. "We are trying to hurry a little bit, here. This is kind of important."

"I know! That's why I'm comin' with ya."

"No, Dax."

"What do ya mean, 'no'? Sure I am! I can help!" Daxter pulled back his hood to glare up at Jak defiantly. The Pout was firmly in place.

The prince sighed patiently. "The best way you can help me right now is to stay here where I know you'll be safe. That guy could be planning an ambush, for all we know. The troops will have all their attention on protecting my back, and all my attention will be on Erol. If something happens you'd have to fight on your own. You don't want that, do you?"

"I can think of about a million things more fun ta do than that—like peelin' potatoes and washin' socks. But I'll do it if I have to, don't even think I won't!"

Jak stared down at the scrawny redhead so bent on opposing him, well aware that no other living creature even minutely below him in social standing had ever given him this much lip. Daxter stared right back, hands on his hips and brows furrowed decisively as he scowled. It was the cutest thing Jak had ever seen.

"Come here."

Daxter yelped as he was suddenly grasped by one thin wrist and pulled quickly into the shadowed alley they had been passing. "Hey! What the—?!"

Jak's hand fell across his mouth; just firmly enough to stifle the flow of loud exclamations he was sure would have been otherwise forthcoming. He still wasn't quite used to these vocal outbursts from his formerly silent friend, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. The green-blonde paused, cloak still swirling around his ankles, listening intently. Someone could have seen them duck in.

Dax finally went quiet when his back pressed against the cold stone side of a building. His ears flicked erratically, equally wild eyes seeking out Jak's own in the dark, dusty, narrow space. Smaller hands flew up to clutch at the large one Jak still had placed over his mouth.

"Shh." Finally satisfied with the quiet of the street without, Jak pulled back the restrictive hand and bent to nuzzle reassuringly at a spot just beneath the redhead's ear. "Sorry. I just didn't want anybody to run by and see you."

"Oh, yeah, right! Like the odds of that are just phenomenal!"

Jak could literally feel the tension draining out of Daxter's body as he pressed them closer. Maybe pulling the little guy into a dark corner and covering his mouth hadn't been the most suave thing he had ever done. But, hey, even if Dax had been momentarily spooked, he seemed to be alright now. Jak smiled innocently and nuzzled a little more pointedly. "Better safe than sorry."

"I'm still goin' with you."

"Really." Jak's hands snuck down to cup a tight rear through baggy pants and pull them flush together.

Dax gulped audibly against his ear. "Y-yeah. Really."

"You're sure about that?" The words were breathed against a pale neck, a soft lick from earlobe to shirt collar following close in its wake.

Daxter whimpered.

"Wouldn't you rather just stay here and wait for me?" Jak could be quite persuasive when he needed to be. Keeping one hand at the redhead's hip to hold him in place, he let the other wander up over a supple back to tangle in that pretty hair. "It won't take long. Any extensive parleying will wait for morning, if I have anything to say about it. I'll be right back. And then we can get to more… interesting things."

"What if—" Daxter's voice was high and breathy, the distraction obviously doing its job. He squirmed against the prince and hummed rather dazedly as Jak shifted them again for better friction down below. "What if somethin' goes wrong? Tattooed W-wonder said not ta trust that Erol guy. They might be tryin' ta take ya hostage, or somethin'."

Tattooed Wonder? It took a moment for Jak to realize Dax was talking about Torn, and had to laugh quietly around the soft patch of skin he was kissing. He made a mental note to ask Daxter later what other colorful nicknames he had for the people in their lives that he had never been able to share. "Don't worry about it, Dax. I can take care of myself. Besides, I'll have a whole mess of backup with me. Erol's all mine, and the guards won't let anything interfere with our chat."

"But—"

Lips on lips turned out to be a fantastic tool for silencing babbled protests. Jak let himself linger at it for a long moment, pecking softly amid his friend's small noises of pleasure as all objections momentarily flew away. Hands closed over his upper arms when Daxter went up on tiptoe to better return the kisses. Though he knew he shouldn't, Jak couldn't resist easing a leg between the redhead's own. Just a few… more… seconds of heady contact.

They broke apart, breathless, as a shrill whistle from the direction of the gates rent the stillness of the night. Jak acted fast, planting one more kiss on startled lips. "We'll meet up in my room tomorrow. You can hide there until I get back. Be careful, and don't get caught."

"Hey!" Daxter sputtered indignantly, still a little dazed, as Jak quickly pulled away and slipped out of the alley, a nearly silent shadow on the breeze.

The green-blonde didn't dare look back as he broke into a sprint. Daxter could not, under any circumstances, be allowed to follow him into what had the real potential of becoming a life threatening situation. Jak need not have worried, however. There was no patter of bare feet on the sandy stones, bent on catching him up. All he heard instead was a frustrated but resigned yell echoing after him down the empty street, and the prince grinned as he ran at the thought of the flushed face and mussed red hair that had to go along with it.

"Fine then, be that way! You just better come back in one piece, ya hear, 'cuz when ya do I'm gonna sex ya _stupid!_"

* * *

A dozen soldiers had volunteered to accompany the prince outside the walls. Despite the show of strength and support they provided, though, Torn was still uneasy. He was the one pacing now as the gates were unbarred from within.

"I'd go with you if I could, Jak," he began.

"I know." Jak raised a hand, effectively curtailing the commander's speech. "You're needed here. We can't both be spared on a risky maneuver like this at the same time."

"Right. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. Your safety has always been my greatest responsibility. Sending you out there alone isn't something I'm comfortable—"

"I won't be alone. And I'll be fine." Jak had to smile. Between Dax and Torn both worrying over him like this, he should feel insulted. He was next in line for the throne of Spargus, not a wayward toddler. But, then again, it was nice to know they cared. Torn in particular, who had never exactly been the affectionate type—even when Jak actually had been a toddler, sitting on his shoulders and gripping his ears and dreadlocks alternately like reigns. "I'll be back before you know it. Look on the bright side. We might be stopping a war in its tracks."

"That's the spirit, chili pepper. I know you'll do us proud." Sig patted him heartily on the back—perhaps a tad too heartily. The big soldier had been keen on being one in the number of Jak's accompaniment, but Torn had vetoed the request almost at once. Sig's experience in battle rendered him much more valuable than the capable but less than extraordinary troops that had been first to volunteer. He would be needed closer to home.

One of said troops, a female guard with long brown plaits, hoisted her shield. "Are you ready, Your Highness?"

"Yeah. Let's move out. Announce to the ones outside that we're coming."

With one last glance over his shoulder at the dark, silent structure of the palace, Jak turned toward the slowly opening gates. He hoped Daxter had made it back there by now, using that animal grace and guile of his to sneak up to the royal suites undetected by the remaining staff still on duty. Jak also wondered where his father could be. He hadn't seen the man for hours—since he had made that hasty exit from dinner to be with Daxter, in fact.

The gates slowly creaked open on their iron hinges, just wide enough for two to walk through the gap shoulder to shoulder. Jak led the way out, one of the bigger men of his guard close at his side.

A gust of cold wind hit the prince broadside as soon as he stepped beyond the shelter of the wall, pasting his cloak to one side of his body and whipping the ends of his headscarf like pennants. Across the blown sands, Erol and his own attendant waited. No sense stalling for time. Jak strode confidently forward. It was the work of but a minute to cross the open land that lay between them.

The opposing commander smiled, cat-like, as the advancing party came to a stop before him. "Ah, Jak. How wonderful to meet you face to face at last."

"Erol." Wonderful or not, Jak remembered his manners and extended a hand. It was not immediately crushed in a grip of steel meant to intimidate, as he had fully expected. Rather, the hand that wrapped around his own was polite and firm. And the contact went on a little too long, Jak couldn't help but think. He had plenty of time to study Erol's face, to take in that the man, like so many, had blue eyes, and note that he was a redhead, too—not the vibrant, blended hues Daxter was blessed with, but a more uniform orange. Finally he pulled his hand from the other's grip. "I think there was something you wanted to discuss?"

"Of course, dear prince. Do forgive me." That smile again. Like a cat in the cream. "I always get a bit carried away when I'm meeting promising new recruits."

Jak's guard was up as instantly. "Recruits."

"Oh, yes. You see, Jak, Baron Praxis might still be a bit skeptical… but I, on the other hand, am fully confident in your abilities as a bright new talent in my officer core. Among other things."

It was all Jak could do not to laugh in the man's face. "You wanted to talk about me joining your army. Me. The prince of the city you're trying to destroy."

"Not just you, of course, dear boy. Your kingdom as a whole would be a valuable ally to the Baron."

"I already told you that Spargus is not going to surrender!"

"No. But don't think of it as surrender, Jak. Think of it as… joining forces. Your kingdom will retain all the autonomy it has now—with the small exception of lending soldiers when the Baron requires them. You keep your city, you keep your freedom, and you keep your lives. Quite the smart battle plan, hmm?"

Jak gritted his teeth. "I'm confident that I'm speaking on behalf of King Damas and every other citizen of this city when I say that Spargus is _not _interested in being on Praxis' leash. And I, specifically, am in no way interested in being on your leash." It bothered the green-blonde immensely that, despite his vehement refusal of the offer, the other man's smile never wavered. The smaller figure under the cloak never moved or said a word. "I think it's safe to say we're not going to agree on anything tonight."

"More's the pity. Are you sure you won't reconsider?"

"You know the answer to that." Jak nodded curtly, the only courtesy he was willing to extend at that point. "Let's go, troops. We're through here." Without taking his eyes off Erol the prince began to step carefully backwards. Never turn your back on the enemy until firmly covered by your guard. Just as he had been taught. All was well.

All was well, until he took another step back towards the protection of his troops and suddenly felt the unmistakable pressure of a blade in the small of his back.

"Sorry, Your Highness. You're not going anywhere."

* * *

Daxter had not gone back to the palace as directed. Instead, keeping to the dark places, he had quietly and steadily made his way as close to the city gates as he could without being seen. He loitered in another alley barely a stone's throw from the wall, shrouded in cloak and shadow, and listened.

Just a few minutes. Just one confirmation from the watchers on the wall that Jak was okay, and he would turn around and go straight to the palace like the obedient little pal he usually was not. Just one.

It was a confirmation he wouldn't get.

"Look, they're moving back toward the enemy camp."

"That doesn't make sense. Why are our men going, too?"

"I don't know. Kinda looks like… oh, shit! Commander Torn!"

Within seconds, the guards' worst suspicions were confirmed. Down on the ground, so were Daxter's. The redhead's ears fell slowly as real pandemonium among the Spargian army set in. A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, not so unlike the feeling of being dragged chained and helpless toward an unknown fate. Jak had been taken hostage.

"Damn it! I knew it! Jak, you stubborn idiot, would it have killed ya ta listen ta me fer once?!"

Completely forgetting to pull up his hood, Daxter unthinkingly darted out of the alley toward the gates. He ran, almost literally, smack into Damas and Samos.

* * *

To be continued…

* * *

(2nd)AN: Well, there you have it. Suspense, intrigue, and all that other happy stuff. And it's a well known fact. No one ever listens to the redhead.

Outtakes.

**- - - - - **

Keira: (leans over the wall)

Jak: (reaches for her cloak, then pulls back) Nah, she's fine. She won't fall or anyth—

Keira: *slip!* Aaaiiieee!! (plummets)

Jak: Oh, shit. (facepalm) Not my fault!

**- - - - - **

Jak: (kisses Dax and runs out of the alley) Ha! He's distracted and not following me! I'm so clever.

Daxter: Ha! He's running into a delicate diplomatic situation with a tent in his pants! He's so dumb.

**- - - - - **

Erol: (stares and smiles)

Jak: …

Erol: (stares and smiles)

Jak: …

Erol: (stares and smiles)

Jak: Dammit, would you quit raping me with your eyes?! And let go of my hand!!

**- - - - - **

Random Guard #1: Commander Torn! The prince has been taken captive!

Torn: Oh, no! Not Jak! He's like a son to me! And besides all that, Damas is going to kick my ass like whoa.

**- - - - - **


	8. Chapter 8

**AN:** Summertime is the best time. Hands down. That is all.

**Characters:** Jak, Dax, Erol, and everyone else still belong to Naughty Dog. Even when other people tamper with them.

- / - / - / - / -

Jak Mar, warrior prince of the Kingdom of Spargus, was livid. He hunched forward slightly, arms aching where they had been bound behind him and secured to the central pole of a tent in the midst of the enemy camp. Though he could feel his lip curling in a snarl, he remained silent. Any verbal outbursts from him now would simply sound infantile. Being captured this way as humiliating enough already.

He still couldn't believe he had been betrayed by his own soldiers. The green-blonde glared at the small group near the entrance of the large tent, conversing in low tones with Erol. The jerk had an insufferably smug smile pasted across his face that made Jak want to rip it right off—if he could move.

One of the former Spargians noticed his hostile gaze and coughed lightly. "Don't take it personally, Your Highness. It's nothing against you. We just decided we're not quite ready for a glorious death in the heat of battle just yet. There's no way we would have been able to win against Praxis. When you can't beat 'em, the smart option is joining 'em. Any fool could see that."

Jak growled under his breath but didn't answer.

The youngest of the turncoat troops, a recruit that looked to be close to the prince's age, stepped forward nervously. He was rubbing absently at a bandaged wrist, and with a start Jak recognized the sparring partner he had trounced that morning while in the throes of a foul temper. At least the other boy had the decency to look somewhat ashamed for the blatant act of treason he had so recently been a part of. "Don't worry, Your Highness. Things will be better this way. Now no one will have to fight at all. That's worth something, isn't it, even if we do have to pay tribute sometimes?"

Jak looked at him evenly for a long moment, the blue eyes of the prince meeting the hopeful deep brown of his former subordinate. "You know… I did feel bad about your wrist." His ears angled back disgustedly as he bit out the reply. "Did."

The boy seemed to wilt. He stepped back toward the remainder of the group, eyes on the packed sand of the tent floor, posture radiating apology and regret as he obviously forced himself not to bow to the prince he had sold out.

For a moment, Jak felt a pang of sympathy. Maybe, he thought despite himself, just maybe, the other had a good reason for the choice he had made. Maybe the kid had family in Spargus. A mother. Younger siblings. What would it feel like to be caught between keeping yourself alive and the people you cared about safe, and escorting the son of your king into the hands of a possible executioner? Hadn't Jak himself just had his back to the wall when he had felt helpless to protect Daxter, ready to try almost anything if it meant keeping the redheaded slave out of harm's way?

Sometimes this higher conscience thing really sucked. It was far too difficult to stay angry, recently.

"I thank you once again, lady and gentlemen." Erol's smooth, satisfied tone brought Jak's briefly wandering attention back to the matter at hand. "Rest assured you've made the right decision, and your confidence will be well rewarded. For tonight, please allow yourselves to be shown to your temporary quarters. When Spargus is surrendered you will of course be allowed to retrieve your belongings and reunite with any loved ones still inside the city. We're not heartless, after all, the Baron and I. I have faith they'll all soon see the light as you did. Now, then—good evening."

As the soldiers filed out into the night with varying degrees of cheer, Jak caught a glimpse through the open tent flaps of troops completely covered in bright red armor, stationed on either side of the enclosure. Guards. Of course. The resisting forces' prince was a valuable prize that must be closely watched. He was brooding on his chances of an escape that night when a diminutive figure covered from head to ankle in a thick cloak swept in, barely behind the last of the exiting soldiers.

"Erol, you idiot! Just what do you think you're doing, pulling something like that?"

Jak's ears perked. Either that was a prepubescent boy under there, or…

"Ah, there you are, my dear." Far from looking displeased at the insult, the redheaded commander simply smiled. The expression practically oozed self-righteousness. "I was wondering where you'd wandered off too. Your daddy would be so upset with me if anything were to happen to you, you know."

"This was _not _what we agreed on!" With the flick of a wrist, the hood was jerked back.

Jak felt his mouth drop open as he stared. The one under the cloak, the one who had approached the city at Erol's side just a few short hours ago, was a young woman. A very attractive young woman, at that. Her deep red hair hung just past her shoulders in neat dreadlocks, while her long, graceful ears and the perfect oval of her face bore the tattoos Jak was beginning to understand were standard for the Haven forces—much as they had been so long ago under his father's rule, as the lines still inked in Torn's face attested to. The prince watched the girl's ruby-painted lips with interest as they twisted into a grimace of anger.

"That was the most cowardly act I've ever seen from a soldier of Haven, let alone from a leader like you! We agreed to approach the rulers of Spargus and offer our terms before beginning a confrontation, and you go and betray the truce right off the bat—with their prince, no less!"

"Ashelin, please. You wound me. Betrayal? I did no such thing. It was his own soldiers who did the betraying. Isn't that right, Jak?"

Jak huffed indignantly, but resolutely did not rise to the bait.

"With your encouragement!" The young woman, Ashelin, huffed in what sounded like utter disbelief. "I just can't believe you. Don't you have any honor at all? Any pride? Defeating a famed warrior in combat is one thing, but—"

Erol had seized her cheek before she could finish, pinching it roughly. His voice dropped to a condescending croon. "Now, now. One of the great lessons life will teach you when you gain a bit more age and experience, my dear, is that some opportunities are simply too good to pass up."

The resulting slap knocked his metal mask crooked. There was fire in her blue eyes, a hiss of deepest loathing behind her words. "Don't. You _ever_. Touch my face again."

Jak smiled grimly. For all that she was obviously his enemy, she seemed to be half Erol's enemy, too. Suddenly he rather liked this girl. _Go on, give him another. And put some power behind this one._

A small frown and a surreptitious rub to the red patch on one cheek was the only sign of Erol's displeasure. He carried on as if the episode had never happened, to Jak's mild disappointment. "Trust me for once, little she-hellion. The Spargians are terrified as brainless Flut Fluts in a windstorm. I strolled in, dropped a sympathetic word or two, and offered a solution. You can see how little encouragement they actually needed."

"Indeed." Still looking far from pleased, Ashelin finally turned her attention to the object of their disagreement. Her ears lifted in undeniable curiosity.

Jak tried to look both aloof and dignified under her scrutiny. Obviously she was a young lady of some importance, or she wouldn't be in a position to bitch-slap the leader of the Haven military with impunity. Surely she wasn't his wife. Perhaps a high-bred noblewoman under his charge? It was possible that she might have some say in the diplomatics of the invasion. If that was so, then Jak might be able to find a reasonable go-between in her.

"Well. Now that you have him, what do you propose to do with him?" Ashelin smirked, clearly meaning to taunt her companion. "I'd bet he could take you down in a fair match. Ten to one."

Completely ignoring her needling, Erol turned to smile down at the captive prince. It was a highly unpleasant smile, made all the more so by the flickering shadows in the lantern-lit tent. His eyes held a strange gleam that made Jak wish more than ever his hands were free to fend off the attack he couldn't help but feel would come. "Why, use him, of course. What better bargaining chip could you possibly ask for than the only heir to the throne?"

"I'm still here, you know," Jak pointed out gruffly. He might have sworn not to speak to them, but this was getting ridiculous. He wasn't stupid, or deaf. How could they possibly feel comfortable openly discussing their strategies in his presence, even if they were confident he wouldn't be able to escape?

The redheaded man quirked a brow. "Of course you are, young prince. I didn't think you had left us so soon. And you do in fact remain a part of this, too. I was wondering how long you were going to keep quiet. Do feel free to chime in at any time."

"Yeah, alright, I'll remember that." Jak glared daggers, set his ears back, and resolved once again not to cooperate one iota—even if Ashelin was hiding a tiny smile at the whole exchange.

"Erol. Do you really think that kind of bargaining will work?" Smile gone as quickly as it had come, she sounded both skeptical and angry. "Not only is that a completely cowardly trick on your part, but it may not even have the effect you're hoping for. Existence is harsh out here. In the grand scheme of things, the life of one isn't worth the freedom of an entire kingdom. How do you know the king will cooperate, even if we do have the prince's fate in our hands?"

"I have my suspicions. Even if his warrior's heart isn't softened by the predicament of his own flesh and blood, it's highly doubtful that Damas would willingly allow any lasting harm to come to the last carrier of the bloodline of Mar." Erol sighed, almost happily. A sigh of satisfaction, of carefully laid plans carried to fruition. "Don't you worry your pretty head. Tomorrow morning we'll go for another little walk back to the city and strike up a deal, you and Prince Jak and I. Isn't that right, Jak?"

Jak reflexively jerked away from the strangely friendly pat that was unexpectedly applied to his shoulder. He was their enemy, for gods' sakes. Why the amiability? Maybe this Erol was a bit unbalanced in the head. Or the desert was getting to him. People did strange things when they began to dehydrate.

"And what happens if we're refused flat?"

"Then we'll simply have to take more… forceful measures." His tone was downright disturbing, making Jak shudder once more against the ropes that held him. Like the guy wouldn't mind taking 'more forceful measures' one bit. "I have a hunch they'll be more willing to compromise with the screams of their beloved prince ringing in their ears."

Jak's eyes widened minutely. Oh, hell.

"Fine. As you say. _Commander_." The sarcasm was palpable as Ashelin readjusted her cloak and stalked back to the entrance of the tent. Cold wind and blown sand seeped in through the opening as she held back the thick fabric. "I'll be in my tent for the night. And I won't be disturbed." It was a thinly veiled threat.

"As you wish, my lady. Pleasant dreams."

"Highly unlikely." Halfway through the motions of pulling up her hood, her eyes landed on Jak. He stared back, meeting her gaze. For a moment they simply regarded one another, before the unexpected occurred. She dropped a very stiff bow. "Your Highness. My apologies, on behalf of myself and every other decent and honorable warrior of Haven. Good evening."

With a swish of the tent flap, she was gone, and Jak was left alone with his captor.

Erol watched her go with mild disinterest. "Please, don't mind her, Jak. She's the Baron's daughter; his only child. She takes after her father a bit too much, I'm afraid. Has more fire than she knows what to do with. Ah, the folly of youth." He said it almost fondly. "By the way, Jak. Did you know that I met you once, when you were a child? I held you, even."

"Uh… I really don't think we've ever met before." Talk about awkward. The man was standing just beside him, now. Jak didn't like it. For a moment he wondered if this was how Daxter had felt as a slave, every day, day in and day out—at someone else's mercy. The thought made him swallow harder than usual.

Oblivious to the green-blonde's discomfort, Erol continued as if they were just having a friendly chat, and one of them wasn't tied immobile to a pole. "Oh, I don't expect you'd remember it. You were only a very small child. Three, perhaps four years old. There was a military parade through the city that day. I was just a young recruit myself, stationed along the road."

Unable to do much otherwise, Jak listened curiously.

"They had you up on a leaper with one of Damas' attendants, so the people could see their little prince. Suddenly something spooked the thing and it bucked. Off you went, almost right at my feet. I expected you to cry, but you didn't make a sound. Just got to your feet, dusted yourself off, and looked up at me."

"I hear I didn't have much to say as a kid."

The redhead chuckled, and Jak almost wanted to believe the man was friendly at heart. Almost. "Is that so? Well, if nothing else, you were certainly sweet. I picked you up to hand you back up to your attendant, and you patted my head like I was doing a good job. An adorable boy."

"Uh, thanks."

Silence fell but for the wind whispering over the canvas above their heads. Erol was standing closer than ever, so much so that the fabric of his pants was brushing Jak's elbow where he sat. The prince straightened his back as much as he could against the support pole behind him, formulating a scathing remark about personal space. Before he could make his mouth form the words, though, there was a gloved hand cupping his face, fingers ghosting under his goatee.

"Whoa! Do _not _touch me!" Jak pulled away with an angry jerk, beyond indignant. Going around pawing at someone's face was just plain rude, let alone doing so to royalty. The very nerve of this guy! What the prince wasn't prepared for was the intruding hand coming back undeterred to grip his chin like a vice. "Hey!"

"Feisty thing, aren't you?" Erol looked pleased. A predator closing in on prey that was already snared. "I'd be absolutely heartbroken if you weren't."

Jak snarled as his head was slammed back against the pole, surprisingly strong fingers gripping his jaw in a way sure to leave bruises. "What is it you want from me, Erol? There must be better warriors than me out there for you to recruit—and if I was only leverage for getting Spargus to agree to your Baron's terms, you wouldn't be here baiting me! Why?"

"You could call it puppy love, I suppose. A bit of a long-standing infatuation." The voice was almost a purr. Jak's level of nervous jumped a notch as he stared up into those oddly calculating blue eyes. "I never thought I'd have the chance to see my little prince again. And then Praxis turned his attention to tying up the loose ends with his old rival once and for all. Reports from travelers who had been through Spargus began to come in. You can imagine my delight when I heard that the striking little boy I remembered was all grown up, and the fiercest fighter in the wastelands. You might say I have a bit of a… fascination with strength."

"Good for you. Now let go of my face before I—"

"Now, now, Your Highness." There was an unmistakable chuckle behind the title. "Do recall that you're my guest, and behave yourself." Erol's hand mirrored its owner's surety by falling abruptly to Jak's head scarf and slipping inside to trail, like some hideous spider, down his bare neck.

Jak reacted without thinking. Quick as lightning he doubled up in his chair and kicked out with both legs, hard as he could. The pole at his back gave him balance and a brace, and before Erol could react he was on his back half way across the tent.

"I said, don't touch me!"

With his enemy gasping for breath and slowly getting up from the ground, the prince felt a surge of satisfaction. That satisfaction was fleeting, however. It took Jak a moment to realize that, while Erol was indeed wheezing for air, he was also laughing.

"Oh, Jak…" The panted, laughter-laden words stopped Jak still as the tattooed commander regained his feet and his composure, straightening his now sandy clothing and righting the lopsided mask atop his head. "It's going to be so much fun… teaching you your place."

Once again Jak went silent, biting back the shouts of anger that bubbled in his chest. He wouldn't encourage the man. He just huffed softly in the back of his throat as Erol strode casually to the flap of the tent.

"Well, Jak, it's been a delightful first evening in one another's company. However, I do need my beauty rest—and I encourage you to get yours, as well. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Sleep well, my young warrior." Half way out, the man paused and looked back. "Oh, by the way. There will, of course, be guards out here all night. I'd highly advise against trying anything foolish. I'll not be held responsible for what they might do to keep you in line."

Abruptly Jak was left alone. He went still, wondering whether there was some trick afoot and Erol might return. Nothing. A lone moth fluttered about the lantern on a rickety wooden table. Outside, the quiet of a desert night was broken only by the occasional low voice of a soldier or the patter of booted footsteps on shifting sand.

"Okay, Jak. Time to get the hell out of here."

He could see the sword that had been taken from him almost at the very moment of his capture, lying on the table near the lantern. Though it seemed far too convenient for his weapon to have been left in the tent with him, and could very well be some sort of test set up for him, he had to try. Anything was better than waiting quietly for morning and whatever twisted plans lay in store for him when the sun rose.

Setting his wrists together as tightly as he could, Jak began to twist them in the binding ropes.

- / - / - / - / -

What had to be an hour later, Jak was exhausted. His arms felt heavy, his wrists raw despite the thick leather gloves that covered his arms to the elbow. Whoever the soldier was who had tied that damned rope, he was good.

Jak shook his head and fought off the tiny but growing urge to rest, make his move in the morning when they came to collect him. No. There would be no chance of escape in broad daylight in the middle of the camp, surrounded by awake and aware enemy troops. He had to get out of there _tonight._

"If you don't want to be paraded in front of your own city and possibly torture-molested in full view of everyone that lives in it, you will move," he muttered darkly to himself. The reminder worked. Though it hurt, he once again began to struggle against the nearly hopeless knots.

Then, a small noise caught his attention and made him stop cold. His ears perked, listening intently. Something was crawling around the parameter of the tent. Warily, Jak watched the spot where wall met ground nearest to where he thought the noise was coming from, at the back of the tent. Though it was unlikely in the middle of a crowded camp, there was always the possibility that a small metal head was looking for shelter in the cold of the night. And there he was trussed up and unable to defend himself if whatever was tenaciously seeking entrance decided to take a bite out of his leg.

Just when Jak had decided that being eaten alive was better than calling for help and alerting the guards to his pitiful escape attempt, there was a light, wispy rustling sound. The canvas bowed upward between two anchoring stakes, and suddenly the prince found himself staring into a somewhat surprised orange- and yellow-furred face.

"Daxter!" He just remembered to whisper and not shout as his friend wriggled and squirmed the rest of the way inside, pulling a small bundle after him. "I don't believe—what are you _doing_ here?"

"Why, I do believe I'm savin' yer butt, pal." Even in the almost non-existent light, the smirk was impossible to miss.

"I told you to go back to my rooms and hide!"

"I didn't listen. Obviously. Lemme tell ya, I got a story about that. But first, we gotta get you out'a here." The ottsel didn't waste time. He dug straight into the bundle of cloth he had drug in, and Jak blinked in surprise as the last vestiges of lantern light gleamed off a small blade.

"How did you find me? And where did you get that?" he whispered as Daxter crept up behind him and set about applying the dagger to the ropes around his friend's pained arms, sawing industriously.

"I just followed my nose. I can smell a lot better when I look like this, an' you smell different than everybody in this place. It wasn't hard. And I snuck up on a group of soldiers asleep around their fire an' slipped off with the knife. No sweat."

Jak's first impulse was to scold quietly, despite the fact that Daxter was, indeed, saving his hide. "That is so dangerous. What if they'd woken up and caught you?"

"Then I would'a been in deep trouble. Which is what we're both gonna be in if we don't split this place quick. The night's half gone, if ya didn't know." The ottsel's voice was a soft murmur, barely more noticeable than a nighttime breeze, and hopefully undetectable to those stationed outside. "Think you could take on two guards by yerself, big guy?"

"Not a problem." This was neither the time nor place to bring it up, but Jak felt the need to assure his friend that under normal circumstances he would probably have been able to hold his own against a flat dozen soldiers bent on betrayal—had he not been trusting enough to let them near his unguarded back with a knife. If he could get the drop on them before they could use their weapons, getting the better of just two enemies would be downright easy. He wasn't touted among the best warriors of Spargus for nothing.

"We need a way out'a camp, too. I don't think we can sneak you out as easy as I snuck in. Any ideas?"

Jak sighed in relief as Daxter's sawing with the knife paid off and he felt the bindings on his arms go slack. He relaxed them into a more natural position, allowing the blood to begin flowing normally and feeling to return to his hands. "Yeah, actually, I do."

The ottsel looked up at him expectantly as he got to his feet and quietly, swiftly, reclaimed his sword and cloak. "Great! What's the plan, big guy?"

The prince smirked knowingly, and turned to face the entrance of the tent. "Guards!" he suddenly shouted, voice startling in the silence. "Hey! There's some kind of weird animal in here! Get it out!"

"Wha?" Daxter balked hilariously and shot under the table as cursing from outside almost instantly heralded the entrance of one of the guards, shaking his head sleepily and shoving his helmet back into place.

"What's the noise in here, prisoner?" he demanded—a scant moment before Jak stepped from the shadows and rammed the pommel of his sword into the side of the guard's helm with enough force to dent the red metal. With a thud and a clunk of armor he crumpled to the floor.

There was a rustle as the flap was once again thrown back and the second guard peered into the dim interior. "What the hell is going on in there?"

Unfortunately for guard number two, he had taken his helmet off at his post, and wouldn't find out what was going on for a few more hours. Jak's fist connected with his unprotected face in beautiful efficiency of motion, and a moment later he was down, almost right on top of his fallen companion.

"Wow!" Daxter squeaked, looking out from under the table. "That was pretty good."

"Thanks. But that was nothing, really." Jak smiled, pleased. His anger at the whole situation was far from assuaged, but knocking two careless sentries senseless was a good place to start. Bending, he quickly began to pull off the smaller of the two's armor. "Come on, Dax. Time to go."

- / - / - / - / -

A few minutes later, Jak stepped boldly out of the tent covered from head to toe in stolen armor. Daxter had stretched out across his shoulders and lay still as a warm stone with the prince's cloak draped over the top of him. Now they just had to play it cool.

Taking a deep breath, Jak strode out into the camp in the direction of the mountains. There was no way they could sneak back to the city gate that night, while it was undoubtedly being monitored, but they did have a fighting chance of slipping away into the surrounding dessert. It would be possible for them to find a place to lay low until morning, when attention might be elsewhere.

As Jak moved away from the cover of the tent in his Haven soldier disguise, he was hailed almost immediately. A female soldier with tattoos concentrated on her cheeks and ears called to him from the far side of a dying fire, sounding tired but alert. "What was all that noise? Is everything all right with the prisoner?"

"It's fine," Jak answered smoothly. "One of those insect metal heads got into the tent. Easy to kill. Nothing to worry about. There seem to be a lot of them out here."

"Gods, tell me about it." Obviously sensing nothing amiss, the woman threw herself back down on her bed roll with a snort of disgust. "And here I thought the back streets of Haven were infested. This damnable desert is crawling with the disgusting things."

Jak chuckled and continued to walk. Slow and steady, completely confident in body language. So far, so good. The sky was still star-spackled dark, showing no hint of the coming dawn, and only a few more rows of tents separated them from the freedom of the open dunes.

Very softly, the green-blonde tilted his head in order to whisper to Daxter. "There are ruins and caves not far from here, under the foundations of the city that stood before Spargus. I think we'll be able to hide there for the night."

"Good idea." Jak could feel the ottsel nodding on his shoulder. "I know that place. It—oh, crud!" Daxter immediately buttoned it as several Haven troops materialized out of the darkness near the last barricade of tents.

Jak's back straightened and he continued to advance as if he hadn't seen the opposition. Daxter was quaking under cover of his cloak, but they weren't in trouble yet.

What was probably the highest in rank approached them, hand on the hilt of his weapon. "Halt, soldier. Where do you think you're going at this time of night?"

"We're so busted," Dax murmured against the prince's neck. He cringed and pressed his furry face into the warm skin. "Nice knowin' ya, pal. My last regret is not gettin' the chance ta mess around with ya again!"

Jak, under his pilfered helmet, didn't bat an eye. "Where else would I be going? There aren't any latrines dug yet."

The soldiers relaxed instantly, chuckling among themselves. Their leader dropped his sword casually back into its sheath. "Hey, no problem. But be careful out there, you hear? Don't let anything nasty get the drop on you while it's all hanging lose. Gods know what's out there. This place is just full of surprises."

"You got it." Jak saluted and walked right past them, fighting down a laugh. If only they had a clue. He hated to think about the punishments that were going to fly the next morning for letting him walk out of captivity all but uncontested. Well… never mind. He actually kind of liked thinking about it.

Walking into the wastelands at night triggered an immediate surge of wariness in the prince, but that couldn't be helped. The danger out here wasn't so bad compared to the danger that was steadily growing farther away behind them. At least now he had his sword and was free to fight whatever might rise from the sands to challenge him. And, of course, now he had Daxter.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the parameter guards, the ottsel let out a puff of hot breath against Jak's skin. He felt nearly limp with relief as he lay along the ridge of a strong shoulder. "Am I the only one who thinks that was waaay too close?"

Jak chuckled, reaching up to scratch under Daxter's chin when his head popped out from under the cover of the cloak. "Don't worry about it, Dax. I could have handled it. We're safe now." Relatively speaking.

"Yeah, safe until they find your guard friends takin' a forced nap back in the tent. Or a metal head that ain't imaginary pops out fer a visit." A critical eye swept the darkened landscape spread out before them.

Finding his way through the wind-blown dunes with careful footsteps, following a ready made map of stars in the direction of the ruins, Jak hadn't thought to inquire about ottsel night vision. "Can you see anything?"

"Everything looks clear fer now. I'll still be happier when we find somewhere hidden ta camp fer the night."

Jak agreed, and picked up the pace.

In less than an hour they had reached the outlying boulders that marked the edge of the ruins. There had been no pursuit from the Haven camp and no surprises lurking in the shadows around them, something Jak was infinitely grateful for. He felt more alert than ever with Daxter's animal form perched on his shoulder. Despite his friend's assurances to the contrary, he didn't want to have to test the little guy's skill at self defense. As far as Jak was concerned, Daxter's safety was entirely in his hands.

Creeping cautiously through the mess of fallen structures, buildings and statues and crumbled walls half buried in sand alike, the green-blonde finally spotted a likely place to spend the night. A hollow had been formed where what had once been a wall had collapsed against the low side of a derelict building. The upside down V that the fallen remains created would be perfect—small enough to stay hidden in, big enough to move about in.

Jak snuck toward it warily, the only clue of its whereabouts a slice of deeper dark against the standard blackness of the night. "What about in there, Dax?" he whispered with a nod toward the suggested space.

"If nothin' else is already spendin' the night in it, it looks great." There was a pensive silence. "Hang on. I'll check it out." And the ottsel jumped from Jak's shoulder before he could react.

"Daxter, get back here!" Jak hissed, but it was too late. Dax was already slinking toward the hole.

"Don't worry. I got this covered." Very slowly, he snuck to the opening.

Jak could dimly make out Daxter's movements by following the patches of lighter yellow fur. He hoped to gods his friend knew what he was doing. All he needed was something to pop out of the hole and grab the little guy. That would just make the prince's already fantastic night. His mental complaints were silenced immediately as a soft yellow glow suddenly lit the night.

Holding a small sphere of pulsing light forward in one hand, Daxter used it to peer cautiously into the depths of the possible shelter. In a moment he looked back at Jak with a relieved smile. "It's okay. Nothin' in there but a spider or two."

Jak wasted no time getting to Daxter's side. By that time, the light the ottsel held was fading. There was no mistaking what it was, though. Yellow eco. Yellow eco that had definitely not been there a few seconds prior. With one quick glance for himself to be sure the coast was clear, Jak nudged his smaller friend into the hidey hole. It was time for some serious question and answer time. He ducked inside behind Daxter, dropping to a crouch when the improvised ceiling proved too low for him to stand up straight.

"Wow, big guy, ya sure can pick 'em." Daxter poked into the back of the shelter, which had been blocked with fallen debris. The only way into it was the way they had come. Easily protected. "Nice job. We should be pretty safe here until morning."

"Yeah."

Jak hesitated a moment before sitting down well away from the entrance and beginning to shuck the stolen armor in the dark. He didn't need to see to get it off, and the stuff was damned uncomfortable. He was glad that Spargus had no real armor for their military, every man or woman patching together their own gear out of miscellaneous bits and pieces as they saw fit and adapting it to their specific needs.

As the prince took off the pieces of red metal, starting with the annoying helmet and setting it carefully aside to avoid any telltale clangs, he tried to watch what Daxter was doing. It was almost impossible to see his hand in front of his face, let alone follow the movements of a slinky, furtive critter like an ottsel.

"Daxter?"

There was a loud sneeze from the back of their small shelter. Fine dust sifted down from the ceiling, more probably puffing up from the cool floor when they moved. "Sheesh, I think that one almost blew my brain out my nose. You say somethin', Jak?"

The green-blonde chuckled. "Let's talk. I want to talk."

An almost smug little snort met the request, and Jak suddenly felt fur brush his elbow. He discarded the chest plate of his armor just as a small, warm heaviness plopped itself into his lap. Dax draped there like any other animal wanting a petting and devoid of human sense as Jak nudged the pile of gear away with one foot and settled his back against the vertical wall of the shelter.

"Alright. Let's talk. What's on yer mind, handsome?"

The casual words thrown out so unexpectedly caught Jak unawares, and he flushed slightly. He supposed that he should take it as a compliment that Daxter, who was born a member of an entirely different species, could consider him handsome. Of course, Jak thought his friend's ottsel shape was pretty darn cute, too. He cleared his throat. "Um. Yeah. Well, I couldn't help but wonder. A few minutes ago, you had some yellow eco."

"Uh-huh." Daxter nodded in his lap. "It's best fer seein' in the dark, bar actual fire. S'what all the eco lanterns at the palace are made with, right?"

"Yeah, you're right, but where did the stuff come from? It wasn't there when we were walking up," Jak stressed. "I would have seen it too. I didn't think this place even had any eco vents. Dad would have had Spargus using them, if that was the case." He didn't mention that Daxter had been holding the ball of energy in the palm of his hand. Holding. Not channeling. Something that shouldn't be possible.

The ottsel actually laughed, until Jak clapped a hand over his mouth. They still had to be quiet, here. "Heh, sorry." Sheepishly, Dax pulled the hand away. "There's really no good way ta explain ottsels and eco. No offense, Jak, but I'm not sure a human could understand how it works."

"Try me."

"Well, I myself don't really know exactly how it happens, but our bodies are just better eco conductors than yours are. We're drawn to it and it's drawn ta us. It takes a lot for it ta affect us in the bad way, but we can handle its good qualities better than humans."

"So if I ran through blue eco I'd be faster for a few minutes," Jak mused. "But you'd be even faster than me?"

"And it'd last longer on me, too. Heck, sometimes we can even create eco out'a the energy in the air and earth around us. But that's like me turnin' human and back—takes a lot'a energy out of us, too. Takes lots'a practice."

Jak slowly petted down Daxter's back, trying to take in what he had been told. There were creatures that could not only control eco, but create the sparkly power out of thin air. And one of those creatures was sitting in his lap, trying to explain the concept. It was mind boggling.

"Oooh…" Dax shifted across Jak's crossed legs, making soft, content noises as the prince's hands roamed aimlessly over him. "I think I'll keep you around fer a while, Jak. That's niiice."

Jak huffed, the darkness hiding a smile. "Don't get too comfortable. As soon as it's light enough to see, we're sneaking in the back of the city. Erol will be occupied out front, and Torn's not dumb enough to leave the rear walls unmanned. Someone will see us and let us in. There's a small gate back there, I think. Near the well pipes. Dad made sure there was an alternate route out of the city, if it's really needed."

At the mention of Damas, Daxter snorted disdainfully. "Y'know, Jak, I really do not like that guy."

"He's difficult to like. Believe me, I understand."

"No, really, Jak. I literally ran into the man when I first decided ta come help ya." The hackles under Jak's petting hand began to prickle. "O'course I still looked human, right then. He an' that old nut job sage were pretty surprised when I bolted out'a that alley and tripped into 'em."

Jak stiffened. "Really? They didn't try to grab you?"

"That's the part that pisses me off! Samos tried ta yell for the guards when I ran, but yer dad just said 'leave it, he's not important right now.' Me, not important? I'm the guy who's gonna save yer son's ass, here, an' I'm not important? Lotta nerve that guy has, Jak. Glad you don't take after him much."

The green-blonde chuckled helplessly. "Oh, Dax." He crooked his hand to scratch under his friend's upturned chin. "No matter what else happens, I guess I'll still have you, huh?"

"Yeah." The ottsel-turned-redhead-turned-ottsel nudged back against his hand, clearly pleased that Jak had finally accepted that fact. "Don't worry about that, pal. I won't let anything happen to ya. Even if Spargus winds up like this place, I'll make sure yer okay."

Jak thought about the ruins they sat in, how the desert wind moaned mournfully through the fallen structures late at night. Sometimes it could be heard clear from the palace. The thought of his own city meeting the same fate was sobering, indeed. "Thanks for saying so. I'll do my best to keep you safe, too."

"I bet ya will, big guy." A small hand patted his leg appeasingly. "Hopefully what happens won't be too bad."

"Mm-hmm." Jak relaxed back against the wall, still a bit pensive. He watched the stars twinkle in a small patch of night sky visible through the opening of their hiding place. "Hey, Dax. You said you've heard of these ruins before."

"Yeah, a long time ago. I wasn't, ah… probably wasn't payin' as much attention as I should'a been, let's say."

"There's a story the Wastelanders tell about this place," Jak said. "They say that a long time ago, it was the most powerful city in this part of the world. You could travel for days in any direction and not find a kingdom anywhere near powerful enough to compare. But the people of the kingdom lost focus. They stopped being just and right. They started to invade other kingdoms to build their own power. They even forgot to respect the Precursors."

"I remember that part, now. Never smart. And didn't just one guy leave the place right before the Precursors destroyed it?"

Jak nodded. "I think that's how the story goes. The last righteous person left the city of his own free will, and to reward him the Precursors made him… I don't know. Godlike, or something. And one day his descendants are supposed to come back and rebuild, and the kingdom will prosper and be as great as it was then." The prince smiled. "I had almost forgotten that story. Sig told it to me when I was little, when we were still living out of tents and trying to build a city in the middle of this damn desert."

"Yeah. You humans and yer crazy stories."

There was amusement behind the jibe, so Jak felt justified in only tickling the languid ball of fur in his arms a little bit. "Hey, watch it. You're the one who decided to hang out with a human."

Daxter yelped and laughed, but luckily they managed to keep it on the quiet side. Soon enough Jak tightened his hold, cuddling Dax up in his arms when a cold wind found its way around the wall. The hours just before morning were the darkest and chillest. When first light showed, they would make their move.

"Cold?" Dax asked as Jak shivered and pulled his cloak tighter around them.

"A little. You?"

"Not really. I got a built-in coat." The ottsel nestled closer to Jak's stomach anyway, perhaps in sympathy for his larger, less furry companion. "I gotta say, though. It's kinda nice sittin' in yer lap like this."

The green-blonde smiled, a little wryly. _Now_ Daxter would deign to sit in his lap, when he was two feet tall and fuzzy. "Still dead set against being my pet?" he chuckled.

"Well, Jak, let's be frank. I quite possibly saved yer life tonight. That's a pretty big thing. Ya kinda owe me, huh? The way I see it, yer the one who should be _my_ pet!"

Jak barked out a laugh before he could stop himself. "What is this I'm hearing? I released you from bondage, you little ingrate! That's not worth anything?"

"Hey, ya shouldn't want repaid for seein' justice done. Right, gallant prince?"

Sighing theatrically, Jak gave up the argument and settled for stroking the soft yellow fur of his friend's side. Despite the stress of the evening and the crisis they would still be facing tomorrow, he knew that he was much calmer for Daxter's continued presence. What would his state of mind be if Dax had actually done as he was told and ran for the hills? Never mind the fact that Jak would probably still be captive in Erol's clutches, he would have been worried sick over his friend's unknown fate. Even if it were more dangerous for Daxter to be with him now, he was grudgingly glad for it.

"Better get some sleep while we can," Jak finally said. "It'll be morning before too long. We'll have to go quick and quiet."

"I see someone's adrenaline is wearing off." Dax grinned. "Yer probably right. Who knows when we'll get ta sleep next."

"I'll wake you when it's time to get moving." The prince petted his friend fondly. It was too bad his idyllic life had been disrupted by war, but he still had the brat that mattered to him most.

Daxter shifted in his lap. "That's great. But, uh, there's one thing we gotta do before we go sleepy-by."

"What's that?"

"Cover yer eyes."

Jak was more than a little confused when Daxter's small hands grabbed his own and urged them up toward his face. "Why?"

"Just do it, big guy. You'll see."

With a small sigh the prince complied. It reminded him of the time he had tried to teach Daxter a clapping game years and years ago, when Dax had been a timid, freshly bonded slave. After quite a long while and much trial and error, they had managed to coordinate hands and arms and rhythms. The giggling had never stopped. Maybe Dax had something like that in mind now.

"Now, don't peek 'til I tell ya."

"Alright. Say when."

It turned out that Daxter didn't need to say when. Jak knew exactly when. He knew when a sudden surge of energy seemed to explode in his lap, standing every hair on his body on end and searing his closed eyes with streaks of warm color. He yelped in shock as a wave of heat washed over him. The small weight of an ottsel in his lap multiplied several times over. Darkness returned in a rush.

"Okay," Daxter's cheerful voice rang out. "When!"

Jak opened his eyes to a grinning redhead, the traces of eco still crackling at the ends of his hair and ear illuminating his cheeky features. "…It's going to take me forever to get used to that."

Dax laughed mischievously and leaned forward against the prince's chest. "Plenty of time fer that, big guy. First, just gimme a kiss goodnight."

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued…

(2nd) AN: You might know I'd finish this chapter on a busy day. I do this to myself for a reason. There must be a reason. I just don't know what it is. Anyway, there will be more of this chapter on AdultFanFiction sometime in the near future. Yes, there's that s-e-x thing in it. I know you all hate me now. I apologize.

Outtakes!

- / - / - / - / -

Ashelin: Erol, I can't believe how dishonorable you are!

Jak: And I can't believe how hot you are. Wow!

Ashelin: (pause) Okay, you know what? Go ahead and rape him. See if I care.

Jak: Oh God.

Erol: Score!

- / - / - / - / -

Daxter: So, karma kinda sucks, huh?

Jak: What do you mean?

Daxter: I got tied up an' almost raped. You're tied up an' gonna get raped. It all evens out.

Jak: Are you going to help me or just stand there? *sob*

- / - / - / - / -

Guard: Here, nameless soldier I've never seen in the ranks before now sneaking off suspiciously into the desert at night—take this spray-on metal head repellent.

Jak: Uh, thanks. But I don't think it'll work.

Guard: Yeah, well, you'll be thanking me when one tries to bite off your ding-dong!

- / - / - / - / -

Damas: So, Torn, I hear you're the one who agreed to let my son meet the enemy without consulting me first.

Torn: No I'm not!

Damas: And now he's been captured, in danger of horrible deaths and tortures.

Torn: No he isn't! Jak's fine! In fact, he's right here!

Sig: (raises a brow)

Damas: … that's a stuffed dummy.

Torn: But doesn't it look just like him?

Damas: I'll admit it's a fair image, but that's beside the point, Commander.

Torn: This one will be even better than the old Jak, trust me. It won't give you any lip, for one.

Damas: Hmm...

Sig: He has a point, Your Highness.

Damas: Indeed. Well, I'm sold! Come on, dummy-son, let's go lead the troops.

Torn: Yes! Sooo not getting fired. *victory dance*

- / - / - / - / -


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** We're wrapping up this story here pretty soon. Like so many I do, it wasn't supposed to go on for so long. But, that's life. I'm glad people enjoyed it, too!

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

- / - / - / - / -

Morning came all too soon. Jak awoke with a start in the cold pre-dawn gloom to Daxter shaking his shoulder gently.

"Come on, big guy. Wakey-wakey. Time fer us ta get movin'."

With a stretch and a quiet groan the prince sat up out of the sand and dust, blinking at the small, shifting silhouette against the opening of their shelter. Daxter had changed over into an ottsel again during the night. He seemed to be getting quicker at the transformation. "Morning, Dax. Ready to head out?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, dashing off into peril without breakfast." Long, orange ears flitted upward as Jak got to his hands and knees, collected his sword and cloak, and began to crawl outside. "But, uh, Jak? Big guy? If there's somethin' a little… weird goin' on out there, promise ya won't wig out on me, okay?"

"Weird like snow in the desert, or weird like raining frogs?" Jak asked over his shoulder, curious as to what his friend meant. It would take more than a little oddness to spook the future ruler of a warrior nation. "I don't understand what you—"

Then he got to his feet, looked out ahead across the sands, and did understand.

Even during the day, eco was eye catching. It glittered, sparkled, and swirled, nearly brighter than the sunlight. That being the case, the towering pillars of it ringing the city of Spargus and rising high into the cloudless desert sky eclipsed even the red sun about to rise over the dunes. Jak felt his blood run cold.

Though they were still far off, the spectacle was awesome. Green, blue, red eco, and some that was even pale, almost whitish-blue rose up from the sand and over the walls as if a plethora of vents had opened of their own accord. The pale blue commanded the most attention, seeming ethereal in the moments just before true daylight broke. Jak had never seen light eco before, but he felt sure that he was seeing some now.

The prince's mouth was bone dry, and not just for lack of water. What could be happening to his home? Was this somehow some doing of Erol's? It couldn't possibly be… could it? His father, Keira, Torn—were they alright, and would they stay that way until he could get back to them?

"Jak! Buddy, listen!" There was a sharp tug at his pant leg and an even sharper sting in his upper thigh as little claws dug unintentionally in. Daxter scrambled up to balance precariously on a piece of the prince's shoulder armor, pawing anxiously at his friend. "That's fer protection, pal, protection!" He got Jak by the chin, turning his head forcibly until they were nose to nose, startled blue eyes meeting calmer ones. "Nothin's gonna happen ta yer city, okay? I swear."

To the best of his ability, Jak tried to compose himself. Truth be told, he had forgotten for a moment that Daxter was still at his side. But the fact that the other seemed to understand what was going on and was trying to reassure him allowed Jak to breathe a little easier. "Alright. I trust you. But—"

A small, furry hand landed over his mouth. "Save the questions fer now. We have to get back there before we miss the party. Plus, the pretty lights'll look even nicer when I work my own special kind of pizazz on 'em, don't ya think?"

Jak could only nod somewhat dumbly and turn mechanically back toward Spargus. Until he had all the pieces of this scattered puzzle, the only logical thing to do was what Daxter said.

- / - / - / - / -

Running on sand was almost as natural for Jak as breathing. He had trained that way for more years than he could recall. The shifting grains under his boots, the hot rays against his back, the small orange being clinging to his shoulder helped to remind him that he was firmly anchored in reality as they came ever closer to the rear wall of the city. Luckily the area was deserted, showing no sign of Erol's forces or any hint that they might have been lurking nearby.

The barrier of eco was even more amazing up close. Jak craned his neck back for an astounded look upwards. He couldn't see where the glowing tendrils ended. "Daxter, how are the different ecos not reacting with each other? I've never seen them all together like this before."

"This is a special situation. Eco can be controlled in definite patterns, with enough power." Daxter sounded almost nervous, but he directed Jak firmly forward with a little tug at the prince's ear. "There're still gaps in this eco, see? Wait fer it ta swirl just right, then walk through. Don't hafta sprint, but make sure we get on the other side pretty quick."

"Right."

Despite himself, Jak couldn't help the leap. He stepped cautiously toward a forming opening in the wall of raw energy and felt a brush of blue eco against his bare arm. There was nothing for it after that—he bolted through with the customary jolt of the eco of motion running cool through his veins. Daxter yelped as he slipped off the metal shoulder plate and hung by it, legs and tail flailing for purchase in the crisp morning air as the eco shifted seamlessly shut behind them.

"Jeez, Jak, watch it!"

"Sorry!" The green-blonde grabbed his friend gently around the middle. He was lowering the ruffled ottsel gently to the sand near the brick wall when a shout from above hailed him, and he looked upward quickly.

"Your Highness!"

Instant relief assailed the prince as he beheld the flash of armor and the glimpse of a tanned face that looked as happy to see him as he was to be seen by friendly eyes. A Spargian guard. "Yes!" he shouted. "As far as I know we're not being followed. Let us in, quick!"

There was an immediate scramble up above. "Someone get down there and open the back gate—Prince Jak has returned! Move it, move it!"

Daxter, who had half hidden himself between Jak's feet out of reflex, peered up at the suddenly empty parapet. "Well, that was easy. Guess I'd better get my groove on before they get down here, huh?"

Before Jak could ask what he was talking about, Daxter was springing into action. The ottsel scampered back to within arm's reach of the eco wall, which twisted and shifted before him. Small tendrils of the stuff drifted free of the main mass and swirled forward, as if reacting to Daxter's nearness. Dax didn't bat an eye, however. He merely sat back on his haunches, tail curled primly around his hind feet, and reached forward with one hand to meet the energy.

Jak watched intently as the ends of the ottsel's fur began to shimmer and glow a bright yellow. It was strikingly beautiful against the pumpkin orange that covered most of his body, and made the yellow of his chest and underside glow like molten gold. Jak actually gasped, albeit softly, when Daxter's paws left the ground. He knew it could happen when especially talented people worked with—channeled—enough eco, this momentary levitation, but with Daxter actually creating the stuff out of thin air, who knew how much power was flowing through that little furry body just then?

Slowly the cloud of yellow eco that had formed around the ottsel began to travel down to his spread palm and unravel from there, working its way steadily into the moving tapestry of color that was already enveloping the city. Yellow seeped into the formerly empty spaces, and in less than a minute the barrier was complete. Daxter touched the ground again gently, foot paws settling back into the sand with minimal fuss as the glow left his fur and he became once again an ordinary creature.

"Daxter, wow! That was incredible. I—"

Jak had barely taken a step toward his friend before the ottsel staggered, stumbled, and collapsed onto his side with a puff of dust.

"Dax!" Jak bolted over and dropped to his knees, gathering Daxter into his arms. He was completely limp in the prince's grasp, breathing shallow. "Dax, come on, please! Wake up!" All Jak could do was shake his friend gently, pet his now sandy fur, and hope to gods that Daxter hadn't made a huge mistake by using so much energy in one go. He was just a young ottsel, after all, and didn't seem to have had much practice at manipulating eco on a large scale, if any at all. That he had been doing so simply to protect Jak's home from an invading army bent on mass destruction made the prince feel responsible.

The creak of an iron gate opening brought Jak out of his blooming panic. He turned to see two guards rush out with weapons drawn. They hovered uncertainly just outside the gate, watching the eco barrier warily. One stepped forward while the other covered the entrance. "Your Highness, quickly, come inside. Something is happening in the throne room, between your father and Praxis' general."  
That got Jak to his feet. He hugged Daxter protectively to his chest, reassured by the little grumble that the unconscious ottsel gave as he was lifted. Now all he had to do was not put Dax down until he was safely rested up again. "Erol is here? How did he get past the eco?"

"He and an attendant were escorted in at dawn, before this—" the soldier gestured almost helplessly at the flowing eco wall, obviously at a loss, "—happened. They claimed they were holding you hostage, Your Highness, and last night you were captured, so it was assumed... In any case, I'm relieved to see it's not true."

Jak smirked. "Well then, I better get in there before my dad does something stupid to save my ass when it doesn't need to be saved. Let's get moving!"

"Yes, sir!" The guard, who had been staring at the limp orange creature in his prince's arms, snapped to attention. "There are leapers waiting. We'll have you at the palace in—"

But Jak was already through the gate and running.

- / - / - / - / -

The silence of the throne room caught Jak off guard. He slowly made his way toward it from a side passage flanked by draping wall hangings, ears tipped warily forward, making as little sound as possible with his clunky boots. Where were the harsh voices raised in debate? Of all the scenarios he had imagined facing on the way to the palace, a lack of confrontation hadn't been one of them.

Sunlight drifted in from the high, arched windows, but as Jak moved slowly down the passage toward the large room at its end he realized that there was more to the brightness of it than met the eye. A brighter glow that reminded him of the light eco from outside shone through the entryway at the end of the passage. He gave Daxter a little squeeze and swallowed nervously, wishing the ottsel were aware. Dax hadn't woken up on the way from the perimeter wall. Jak sighed softly, then straightened his back and ears before stepping out into the throne room.

"Ah, there they are. Right on time."

At first Jak thought that the kind, fatherly voice was actually stemming from the glowing beings standing tall near the back of the throne room, and it stopped him, frozen, in his tracks. The figures had no clothing, no visible faces. They stood unmoving, as if waiting for some kind of signal. For a moment his mind drew an almost perfect blank.

"Down here, Jak. A little lower, if you please."

The prince jerked himself out of his trancelike stare and turned to the front of the massive room, looking closer to the flagstone floor. There, on a soft cushion that looked like it had come from one of the big beds up in the living quarters, lounged a rather portly ottsel. An ottsel that happened to be wearing clothing—a simple, sand-colored tunic—and drinking from a teacup with its pinky out. It waved at him cheerfully with the other chubby hand.

Jak gaped. "Oh, my gods…"

"Shut your mouth, son, and properly greet our guests."

Only then did Jak take notice of just who else was in the room. The surreal scene was only expanded by the remaining company. Damas sat straight-backed on his throne, familiar scowl in place. Flanking him stood Torn and Sig on the one side, hands on their weapon hilts, and a decidedly nervous looking Samos on the other. The court sage seemed to be having a staring contest with a second ottsel settled near his feet; impressive, considering that said ottsel's eyes were covered entirely by a leather cap.

A third ottsel, long and thin with a messy patch of dark brown head-fur, occupied a spot on a bench at a small table near the base of the throne where Keira sat. She was stroking along its shoulders and down its back rather absently, while its tail switched to and fro in mellow enjoyment. Also at the table were a couple that Jak was less than pleased to see—Erol and Ashelin sat on an opposing bench, expressions carefully schooled. The commander merely raised a brow and frowned slightly when he met the prince's eye.

Finally, Jak found his voice. It even managed not to waver. "Dad, what's going on?"

Damas looked perturbed, in a kingly sort of way. "Absolutely nothing. We're having tea and biscuits. What does it look like?"  
"No need to get antsy." The chubby ottsel smiled behind his cup. "What will happen here today has been brewing for years now. No need to rush anything at this point." He gestured into the room as if he owned it. "Please come and have a seat, Jak. Have something to drink. You must be parched after what you've been through. We'll need to do something about your friend there before the talking can begin, as well."

That helped Jak focus on the situation at hand rather than stare at the glowing entities in the back. He came forward resolutely. "You can help him?"

Keira's ottsel sat up under her hand, yawned, and stretched. "Sure we can. He just overtaxed himself. Drop him over here, man."

Jak of course did no such thing, but he did sit down—shooting a glare at Erol across the way—on the other side of the messy-haired ottsel. He held Daxter draped over his lap, a compromise between letting go of his friend entirely and giving the other ottsel easy access.

"Alrighty, let's see what we've got here." The lanky ottsel leaned over, almost nose to nose with Daxter, and pinched an orange and yellow cheek. "Hmm. I think we can work with this. Hey, Dummy! Come over here and give me a hand."

It took Jak a moment to realize that it was a name and not an insult, when the ottsel hovering around Samos' ankles perked up and loped over, eyes still covered by his cap. He had huge front teeth and a wibbly, meandering way of walking. It was both ridiculous and cute, and the prince was smiling just a little when he felt a soft hand on his own. Glancing back, he met Keira's smile.

"I'm glad you're back safe, Jak. You had me worried, there."

"Sorry." Jak gave her hand a little return squeeze. "Thank Dax, when he wakes up. He's the one who broke me out. I'd have been in deep trouble if it weren't for him."

Keira's face scrunched up in a funny way as Jak gazed down fondly at the fur-ball in his lap. It was obvious when she made the connection a second later; her mouth fell open in a perfect 'o' of surprise and wonder as she looked at the ottsels clustered around them, then back up to Jak. "Are you serious? Is that really—?"

At the crackle of eco, both humans glanced down.

The mellower ottsel was gently petting Daxter's head and face, clucking and cooing softly like a mother creature might to its young. Green eco oozed from his hands and was raked into orange fur by careful fingers. The other ottsel was doing the same down Daxter's back and shoulders, but seeping blue eco rather than green. Almost immediately Dax began to twitch in Jak's hold.

"There you go, little Lightning," the taller ottsel smiled, ruffling his companion's slowly rising ears. "A double dose of healing and energy boost, just what the doc ordered."

"All better!" Dummy chirped happily. He then dove from the bench and sped under the table with another flicker of blue, only to run smack into a table leg with a thud that made everyone sitting there jump. "I'm okay!"

Daxter chuckled sleepily, snuggling into Jak's arms with a yawn. "He still does that, huh?"

"You better believe it, little bro."

Jak was delighted. Despite the attention of everyone in the room, he couldn't help but hug Daxter to his chest with a smile. "Dax, you're alright!"

Daxter rolled to his side, blinking up at the prince bemusedly. "Yeah, m'okay. What, uh… what happened, exactly?"

It was probably unseemly behavior for royalty, but Jak wasn't going to let his friend off his lap any time soon. "You collapsed after making the eco barrier. I was worried."

"After _completing _the eco barrier, you mean." The portly ottsel finished off his tea somewhat daintily and set the cup aside. "Not bad, for someone years out of practice." At Jak's confused look and Daxter's scowl, he laughed. "What? Jak, you don't mean to tell me you thought your friend did all of that by himself? Heavens, no! You still have a long way to go toward a stunt like that, Lightnin—er, Daxter."

Daxter pouted and opened his mouth, a witty retort clearly on the tip of his tongue. However, he was beaten to the punch when Damas slapped one meaty hand onto the leather-padded armrest of the throne with a loud clap. Torn and Sig, who had been openly staring, snapped back to attention. Daxter shut his mouth with an obvious click of teeth and huddled in Jak's lap.

"This has all gone far enough," the king huffed. "If everyone is quite done with their refreshments, I don't think I'm overstepping the bounds of propriety by asking that someone please fill me in on what the hell is going on here." He pointed to the chubby ottsel, who was now calmly polishing the rim of his teacup. "We've already covered the fact that you are intelligent beings with considerable power over, at the very least, eco, and gods know what else that you haven't divulged. I can accept all that. But correct me if I'm out of line by asking why you just called that little orange one—" the finger shifted to Daxter, "—by the name of one of our runaway slaves?"

Samos coughed, shifted, and looked up at the wrought iron chandelier.

To Jak's supreme interest, the lead ottsel's ears went back. He frowned for the first time since Jak had seen him. "Actually, now that you mention it, let's have a little chat about that. It is after all a large part of why my colleagues and I are here."

Jak felt a small elbow nudge his ribs as Daxter settled in. A resigned whisper accompanied the light jab. "Oh, boy. Here we go, big guy. Listen up."

"As you seem interested in ottsels, King Damas—and you should be, for good reason—allow me to tell you a bit more about them." The chubby ottsel fluffed himself grandly, dismissed his cup once more, and began. "Ottsels are an ancient race. They are not born, at least not in the way you would be familiar with. Rather, once in a great while, one will simply come into existence. This occurs chiefly when the energies of the world are out of balance for one reason or another. Each ottsel is created with his own unique talent: an affinity for one or more kinds of eco. By learning to control these powers, they benefit the planet in ways you can't even begin to imagine—sometimes by simply existing, and some sometimes in more direct ways."

The room was almost completely silent. All eyes were fixed on the diminutive speaker. Jak's hand began to pet Daxter's back slowly, rhythmically.

"Now. On to the question at hand. There are not many of us. In fact, you see before you in this very room the entirety of the ottsel population of the planet. Consider yourself extremely privileged, by the by." The ottsel's button nose twitched in a haughty sniff, and Jak felt the absurd urge to poke it. "That said, we lead a life of solitude. Rarely, if ever, do we come into contact with humans. However, we do possess the ability to change form." It was almost, if not quite, a threat. Calm but annoyed eyes stayed steadily fixed on the king. "With practice we can assume the physical shape of a human, or any other creature, and go unnoticed with none the wiser. This is something that we, as a rule, do not indulge in. But on the other hand, as you might imagine, the excitement afforded by employing this technique can be a powerful lure… especially to a young one."

Jak stared, the movements of his hand ceasing. Daxter hunkered down almost sheepishly.

"One day some years ago a trade caravan passed through the mountains we usually prefer to inhabit. The youngest among us had recently—unbeknownst to his elders, I might add—been practicing at his transformation skills, and found such close proximity to humanity too good an opportunity for amusement to pass up. Imagine, if you will, a cheeky kit just coming into his powers. Stalking the travelers is fascinating. He blends right in and starts to feel cocky—so he thinks nothing of mouthing off to an old sage, who happens to have a decent stock of power of his own and a rather fragile temper."

The older ottsel shot a disapproving look at Daxter, who had hitherto been sitting stiffly in Jak's lap. It seemed that he could stand being silent no longer, though, and Jak felt fur bristle under his palm.

"Well, ex-CUSE me fer makin' one little comment about the fact that the old man had a LOG and a freakin' BIRD on his head!" Daxter exploded, glowering across the way at the sage.

"Be still," the older ottsel told him sternly. "When I need your input I will tell you so."

Before Samos could stutter a retort, Damas was waving his hands for quiet. "Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. I need to process this." He took a deep breath, pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked at his right-hand sage. "Samos. Please. Tell me that you did not, without any more provocation than a child's insult, enchant and enslave a pet of the very Precursors. Please, tell me that. Tell me that and I will be entirely satisfied."

Samos harrumphed. He coughed, rocked back on his log shoes, and looked back to the ceiling for inspiration. "Your Highness… after hearing the brat's annoying voice, can you really blame me?"

"Daddy!" Keira yelled, half horror and half exasperation.

"What? It's not like I knew the brat was a… a Precursor's pet! Oh, I knew there was something odd about him right from the get-go, of course. Something unsettling. He just came out of nowhere in the mountain pass, miles from any kind of civilization. If that's not strange I don't know what is. Wouldn't say his name, where he was from, nothing! I had a right to be suspicious." The old sage tapped his chin, mulling it over. "Why, when you put it that way, it was almost my duty to bring him back to King Damas. He was the most unique thing we found on that trip, if I recall correctly—"

"So you tricked him into a collar that fed off his own power so he couldn't use it to get away?" The tall, skinny ottsel made a dissatisfied clicking noise from under the bench near Keira's feet. "And dimmed it enough that we couldn't even track him down? And kept him locked in human form for years? That's harsh, man."

The log-headed sage shuffled a bit, fiddling with the mismatched glasses on his nose. "Well, I—"

Dummy ottsel's eyes still weren't visible, but his exaggerated pout in Samos' direction said it all. "That wasn't very nice."

"Not to mention the small fact that he was used for a _slave_. Menial labor, poor diet, physical harm… That's a pretty lofty insult to anyone, and especially to one of our kind." The pudgy ottsel tucked his hands into his sleeves, once more seeming serene and contemplative. "I trust that you, Damas, will do what honor says you must and atone for this grave injustice."

Jak swallowed, looking at the flagstones between his boots. While he had certainly befriended Daxter, and never done him any intentional harm, he had never gone out of his way to help him escape, either. At least, not until recently. And that was only after practically nearly raping him, at that. Gods, they had all been monsters. It was no wonder the other ottsels were pissed.

Looking ready to drive Samos into the floor like a wooden stake, Damas slowly got to his feet and assumed that royal manner Jak knew all too well. "Of course, Ottsel Leader. I am beholden to make amends for the poor judgment of my subordinates. I can also admit that I may have been a bit… harsh with your young one while he was here. Slave that he appeared, I thought nothing of it, and I too apologize."

"Maybe there's a lesson on keeping slaves at all, here, huh?" the tallest ottsel muttered snippily from the vicinity of Keira's shoes.

Damas glanced over at Jak, his expression darkening even further. 'If you actually forced that boy into a bedding and these freakish creatures call down the destruction of the very Precursors upon us I will kill your punk ass,' was plainly the point. Jak's mouth fell open in indignation, and he unhesitatingly flipped his father the bird. How dare the old man look at him like that? It was Damas who had told him to do it in the first place!

"A-hem!" Damas thundered, before visibly calming himself and addressing the ottsels once more. "Please consider this my formal apology. I will of course do anything in my power to right this wrong, pending it doesn't negatively affect the well-being of my people."

A pleasant smile appeared on a small, pudgy face. "Ah, yes. Glad to hear it, Your Majesty. I don't think you'll find what we'll ask of you too unfair or over the top. In fact, it might even be to your liking. Well!" He turned on his cushion seat, casting an appraising eye over the rest of the assembly. The gaze lingered on Erol and Ashelin, who had been surprisingly silent and well behaved for the duration of the audience. "We might as well conclude all our business in one fell swoop. It would be a shame to drag it all out. You get ulcers that way. And on that note, I suppose you should know that whatever happens won't be as severe as it would have been if your son hadn't been in the picture, Damas."

"Because he was kind to Daxter?" Keira asked.

Jak was thankful that she didn't seem to have any fear of the ottsels. They didn't seem to be malignant beings, at least. Neither did the glowing, silent set in the back of the room, for that matter, even if they were creepy. He wondered again who or what they were, and what they were doing there.

"Yes," the ottsel in charge answered. "But that's only a smaller part of the whole. You see, Jak and Lightni—Daxter were fated to meet. We just didn't anticipate that it would under such… difficult circumstances."

Damas sat back on his throne, shooting a look at Jak as he did so.

The green-blonde shrugged lightly. He in turn glanced down at Daxter, who looked back up at him with a clear 'I dunno' expression. Jak looked to his father and shrugged again. "Nope. Got nothing."

The king sighed, looking back at the ottsel on the cushion. "I think you had better enlighten us, as I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

"You may recall, Your Highness, an old tale about the city that used to stand here before your people built Spargus."

"Yes, I remember it." Damas propped his chin on his hand, seeming thoughtful. "I had thought it was only an old fable before we were exiled from Haven, but then the Wastelanders knew of it, too. They swear it's true. Sig here is the one who told it to Jak, when he was small."

Sig nodded slowly as was gestured at. He was looking at Jak with a strange intensity that made the prince want to ask what was wrong, but the middle of a conversation was no time to do it.

"Then I won't go into great detail," the ottsel leader said, tail twitching across the velvet of the cushion. "Suffice for me to tell you, your Wastelander allies are right. It is true that the last living human in that disgraceful settlement, a great hero, was blessed by the Precursors. It was decreed that his descendants would one day return to this place and rule. And, coincidentally enough, that young fellow's name happened to be Mar."

Silence reigned for a long moment. Jak found his eyes drawn to the banner draped above his father's throne—bright red, with the swirling crest of the line of Mar stitched into it in gold. It gleamed duly in the mixed light, slanted sunshine and glowing eco alike. _No way…_

"That's preposterous!" Samos finally burst out. "That is an old children's story. A legend." He harrumphed and crossed his arms firmly.

"And where do you think legends come from, man? Chill out and listen." Keira's ottsel cast the sage a disapproving frown that was mirrored by Keira herself.

Samos fell silent, sheepish once more in the face of their combined annoyance.

The eldest ottsel did not look amused either, ears slanted back and eyes narrowed. "Quite. Whatever your take on the matter, my dear carrier of cranial logs, the truth is the truth. The bloodline of Mar was fated to return to this desert—and so Damas was overthrown and outcast from Haven. It was meant to be. And when the last of that line met the newest member of our own… well. As you can see." He shook off his irritation and smiled, pointing with his staff. "The Prophesy was set in motion."

Jak suddenly felt all eyes on him. On him, and on the little orange ottsel still sitting tight in his lap. He flushed slightly. "What?"

"Jak is the Precursors-blessed heir of an ancient hero destined to rule a legendary kingdom with enough power to change the world." Torn, who had been professionally silent thus far while awaiting orders from his king, shook his head slowly. His dreads swayed around his shoulders. "Now I've heard it all."

"See, I told you! I always knew there was something special about that kid." Sig elbowed the commander in the ribs, eliciting a loud "oomph!"

Jak honestly didn't know what to make of it all. Him, part of an ancient prophesy? Descended from a man straight out of a mystical legend that was actually history? It was a lot to wrap his brain around. But, if everything the ottsels had told them was true, and he and Daxter were supposed to be together on some deep, cosmic level…

_Maybe they won't take him away from me after all! _His heart thrilled at the thought.

From the moment he laid eyes on the new ottsels, Jak had known. They were there to find Daxter, to take him away from the city that had held him captive, back to wherever it was he had come from. Jak had no claim. Hell, Daxter wasn't even the little guy's real name. It was Lightning, apparently. There was no way the elder ottsels would allow him to stay, or even to visit, probably. Jak had been feeling steadily worse in a downward spiral since then, soaking up the soothing warmth of his friend for the last time. But maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be the last time after all.

"You." The eldest ottsel beckoned to Daxter, pulling Jak out of his contemplations.

"What? I didn't say anything!"

"Yes, you've done very well keeping quiet. That's not what I meant. Come over here and change into your human form, Lightning. I've never gotten a chance to see it before. Even if you were doing it without guidance or permission, being able to convincingly alter yourself enough to fool even a sage is an accomplishment." There was an almost paternal fondness behind the words.

Daxter perked up, obviously confused by the sudden request but undeniably pleased with the praise. "Sure thing, Pops. 'Scuse me a sec, big guy." He slid from Jak's lap and swaggered to the middle of the floor, then stopped cold with one foot half raised. "Uh… not ta put a damper on anything, but it's kinda rude ta be a human and not have any clothes on. At least," here he shot a quick look at Jak, "in public."

The prince flushed and coughed lightly. Suddenly he agreed completely that Daxter human and naked in the throne room was a bad idea. He needed to be human and naked behind Jak's locked door. And Jak needed to stop thinking about that, because this was sooo not the time or place.

The ottsel leader waved a chubby hand dismissively. "Don't worry about that. You don't think I've been around long enough to learn how to apply eco fabrication to some actual fabric?"

"If you say so." Apparently that was all the assurance he needed, for a split second later the cloud of yellow that accompanied all of Daxter's eco tricks crackled around him.

Keira squeaked and covered her eyes, while Jak shielded his own with one hand. He was in time to see the elder ottsel shake his staff and a spark of blue shimmer in the mix. A moment later the dancing spots of light cleared, Jak lowered his hand, and there was his redhead, inspecting the luxurious blue robes he had been decked out in.

"Ooh, soft!" Daxter twiddled with the wide sleeves, the supple silks, the clean cotton. Loose, breathable pants tied off just below his knees, where intricate foot wraps began. "Comfy, too. Nice digs, Pops!"

Jak's chest swelled with amusement and affection as he watched his friend fuss, primly adjusting the goggles he had suddenly grown into again. He smiled, allowing himself to hope that he would continue to see sights like that for a long while to come. The ottsels wouldn't really be heartless enough to split them up, right?

Unbeknownst to Jak, he wasn't the only one intently observing his redhead. While Daxter showed off to his furry companions and Damas held a murmured counsel with Torn and Sig, Erol had leaned forward over the table. Jak had almost forgotten that he and Ashelin were there, until the Haven commander spoke.

"Fascinating…"

Jak turned on the bench to face him. "Huh?"

"Creatures that can manipulate eco at their will. I had my doubts, but perhaps I believe that they're responsible for the shield around this city after all." Up close, in the daylight, his blue eyes were flecked with gold. It was oddly unsettling. "What a find! Can you imagine the sheer advantage a force would have with one of those animals in their control—?"

Jak was abruptly grateful that there was, in fact, a tabletop between them. Diplomatic meetings tended to go to shit when you beat someone's face in. "Daxter," he growled, glaring daggers at Erol, "is not an animal!"

Before things could escalate, there was suddenly a furry form blocking the prince's view of his adversary. "Simmer, dudes. We're about to get to the point here, I promise. All you humans are gonna have to cooperate for a little while, you dig me?"

"Mind your manners!" Dummy chirped, still running laps around the bench.

The chubby ottsel nodded. "Sound advice. You can sit back down, Lightning. No… no, wait. Come back here. There's no sense putting this off. Delightful as this little visit has been, we need to be on our way soon."

Daxter stopped his headlong rush back to Jak's side, but didn't make a move back toward his leader, either. His ears flicked in confusion. "Huh? But ya just got here! You guys are leavin' already?"

"We certainly can't stay, Lightning. We have to leave—and so do you."

Jak's heart sank down to his boots. Well, damn.

Daxter didn't look pleased, either, against all odds. In fact, he looked shocked. "Wadda'ya mean, I gotta leave? Jak let me free, so it's okay now. I can come and go whenever I want! And I wanna stay here right now."

"You're not a human, Lightning, though you might look and act like one." The ottsel leader's voice was stern. "And you don't belong here. You have a job to do, just like the rest of us. When we return home you'll have quite the task ahead, brushing up on your skills and adding to your knowledge. You've lost more than a few years' worth of practice time, you know."

"I guess…" Daxter looked as miserable as Jak felt, ears flat to the sides of his head and pointing at the floor. It was small comfort that he wasn't ready and willing to run for the hills, leaving all that remained of his life of slavery behind.

The portly ottsel chuckled lightly. "Don't look so put out, kit. Cheer up. I think you'll find your eco training a little more interesting from now on."

"Yeah?" The redhead remained dull, shoulders slumped, obviously uncaring.

"Yes, I believe so. Because, you see, we're taking your friend the prince with us."

- / - / - / - / -

To be continued…

- / - / - / - / -

(2nd)AN: So one day I will totally mean it when I say "this is the LAST goddamn chapter!" But today isn't that day, obviously. I just couldn't condense two chapters of plot into one. I tried. And there really should be some sort of epilogue (you'll see why after next chapter). So it's still ongoing. At least one more chapter. Good lord.

Outtakes!

/

Ottsel Dax: Okay, Jak. You're going to see something very weird going on with your city. But I need you to help me out and stay calm, because it's nothing bad, alright?

Jak: Of course, Dax. I'm a prince. I'm not easily startled.

Dax: Great! Just so long as you don't freak out when you—

Jak: OH MY GOD, what the hell is that around my city? Is it gonna blow up? Oh my God, we're all gonna die! Aaaaahh! Aaaaaaahh! *runs in circles screaming*

Dax: *facepalm*

/

Damas: Let me get this straight, O Badass Furry Precursor Thing. I'm supposed to talk to you as an equal? Me? The king of Spargus? Chat it up with a tubby little weasel?

Ottsel Leader: I am not fat, I'm big boned! Respect my authority, damn you!

/

Keira: (petting Surfer ottsel) Oh, gosh, you're just so cute and fluffy and adorable and I wanna hug you and squeeze you and love you! 3

Sufer: *purrs* And Lightning's been fooling around with the PRINCE? Damn that kit is confused…

/

Erol: Just so there's not, like, any confusion, here: yes, I want to strap you all to tables and have my wicked way with you.

Daxter: ….

Sig: …

Torn: …

Jak: DAAAD~!

Damas: *blasts Erol with gunstaff* GTFO, creeper.

/


	10. Chapter 10

**AN:** Last chapter this time, for real. Any epilogues don't count.

**Characters:** Belong to Naughty Dog, Inc.

- / - / - / - / -

Chaos erupted upon the chubby ottsel's announcement.

Daxter squealed in disbelief. "Ya mean he's MINE?" He turned and dove on the prince, thin arms surprisingly strong around Jak's neck as he squeezed. "Thanks, Pops! I'll take real good care of him, I promise!"

His face smashed very lovingly to Daxter's chest, Jak could only manage an intelligent "Huh?"

"But you can't take Jak!" Keira cried, grabbing the green-blonde's arm and pulling, leaving Jak himself looking rather uncomfortably choked and stretched. "He belongs here! He's heir to the throne!"

"If Pops says so, then I can! Sorry, toots."

"Over my dead body!" Damas roared, shooting to his feet once more. "I didn't put up with that brat and his attitude for eighteen years so he could be spirited away and never carry on the family line!"

Torn and Sig likewise leapt up, swords drawn, but neither looked sure what exactly they were supposed to do with them against tiny, fuzzy opposition.

"Hold it, hold it!" The ottsel leader stood up from his cushion, waving his arms and his staff. "Everyone calm down. I knew this would happen. Let's talk about this like civilized beings, shall we? Lightning," he huffed, turning to Daxter, "let go of that. He does not 'belong' to you, any more than you belonged to him three days ago. We don't carry grudges. Even though taking him for a slave for a few years actually would be quite fair in this case."

"Aww…" Pouting, Daxter loosened his hold enough for Jak to breathe.

"Very good. Now then, King Damas. We are not going to abscond with your son and never bring him back. That would be terribly forward of us. No, what we propose will do not only him, but your entire kingdom, some good. We mean to train the boy to channel eco, very like one of us. As Mar's direct descendant, he should be perfectly able. I'm sure by now you've noticed a tendency for him to be more attuned to eco than would be usual?"

Damas paused, still standing uncertainly before the throne. "Well… yes. Jak has quite the talent, on the battlefield and with eco. The only one who can compare to him is Samos here, and he's a sage." The king shook his head. "Be that as it may, you cannot take Jak with you! I won't allow it! We need him here, defending Spargus! You think I'm going to let you walk off with one of our best warriors in the middle of a war?"

The tall, mellow ottsel spoke up. "You have a valid point, Your Highness. But we've got an answer for that, too."

"Oh? Well, by all means, I'd love to hear it. Maybe you'll lend us an army of little furry soldiers to replace him in the ranks?"

"Don't get snippy, man." He flicked an ear unconcernedly. "We fully intend to lend a helping hand. You're Mar's people. We won't leave you high and dry. Besides, the Prophesy didn't say anything about the Kingdom of Mar getting squished before its rightful heir takes it over."

"I'm sensing some fuzzy favoritism going on here." Erol frowned down at the smaller speaker. "My Baron sent me here to either sublimate or overrun this place. Your interference won't be appreciated."

"Well maybe your Baron should have left well enough alone when he gained control of Haven," the ottsel snapped. "You think w—our Masters like wars and conflicts and all that? They don't, man. It's damn head enough keeping the powers of the planet in balance without having to worry about bullies like your boss pushing people around."

Erol and Ashelin were absolutely speechless.

"Now, here's what we're gonna do about this." The messy-haired ottsel looked up to Ashelin. "Young lady, I think you're Baron Praxis' daughter, yeah?"

She nodded, looking only a little nonplussed to be speaking to someone a little taller than her knee. "I am. I'm also one of his best dignitaries. I came along on this campaign to try diplomatic approaches, before someone—" she glared at Erol, "—undermined my efforts completely."

"Well that's just great, miss. Now you've got your chance to be a darn good diplomat."

"Yes?" Ashelin looked hopeful.

"What we'd like you to do, miss, is stay here in Spargus until the prince is returned. As a gesture of goodwill between the cities."

Her back stiffened. "You mean as a hostage."

"No, no. Not like that. We need someone of high standing in Haven, preferably one with some ethics, to stay here as a guest in Spargus. Someone with some clout here will go back to Haven and do the same. Those people will be the tie that binds the kingdoms. There's no reason why both of them can't coexist without someone needing to overthrow the other. Now. You're the Baron's daughter, and a diplomat, at that. Can you think of somebody better?"

Ashelin rose from the bench, her cloak pushed back over her shoulders. She looked quite lovely in the light of morning, too, Jak decided. "No. No, I can't."

"Refuse, Ashelin," Erol growled. "They can't demand—"

"Shut up! You have no authority over me!" she cried, glaring back at the commander. "You know and Father knows and the whole damn kingdom of Haven knows that a war with Spargus is the last thing anyone needs right now, but you're insane and he's going senile and I will not allow this idiotic, unnecessary conflict to happen! I accept!"

The room seemed to let out a collective breath. Erol bit off what was probably a curse and looked angrily away. Damas finally sat back on his throne, looking a bit dazed. It seemed that the willing cooperation of his enemy's child had thrown him for a loop.

The elder ottsel nodded approvingly. "Excellent. Then all we need is someone to do the same on the other side."

Keira's arm shot into the air, making Jak jump in surprise. "I will! I volunteer!"

Everyone stared.

"What? You most certainly do not, young lady!" Samos yelled, the butt of his staff striking the flagstone floor with a crack. "The very idea!"

"Oh, Daddy, be quiet." She turned beseechingly to the ottsel leader. "I may not be Damas' daughter, but I am the daughter of his most trusted sage and adviser. And it was my father who brought Dax—your kit here in the first place. Please let me help make amends?"

"Are you sure about this?" the ottsel asked her. "It may be hard on you."

"Of course she's not sure!" Samos screeched. "Damas, do something about this!"

Keira nodded firmly. "Yes, yes I am. All my life I've wanted to see something other than the inside of these city walls. I'm a good fighter and a great mechanic and I know how to talk to people. I'm useful! Please, I want to go!"

Jak sat still, debating with himself. Half of him wanted to jump up and say that it was much too dangerous for his childhood friend to wander into the middle of enemy territory for who knew how long. The other half, the half that made more sense, reminded him of Keira's curious heart and adventurer's spirit. She would thrive away from Spargian control, and likely help keep the peace between the cities. It was too logical to ignore.

"Very well." The elder ottsel nodded his consent. "You're the one, Keira. Thank you for accepting this task."

Erol stood smoothly, shoulder to shoulder with Ashelin. "I feel like I need to step in, here. If this little disaster is really going to be taking place, I need reassurance that Lady Ashelin will be properly protected here in the land of the barbarians. I volunteer to return the favor and ensure that no harm comes to Miss Keira." He smiled wryly, just a small quirk of the lips. "She's got spunk, and the wits to pull a fast one on me. I would be willing to be her escort."

"I really must protest," Jak growled.

"Overruled," Damas said immediately. "We don't have a lot of choice. Though I do warn you, Erol. Those ruins out there beyond the dunes? If these ottsels speak the truth, and I must choose to believe that they do, they would have no problems making sure Haven City and those ruins match up pretty nicely. I'd suggest you take good care of our Keira."

"And I'd suggest you do the same with Ashelin," Erol shot back.

Ashelin visibly tensed, looking ready to belt Erol in the head and insist that she needed no such protection. However, before she could do so…

"A-hem. Your Majesty?" Torn stepped up beside the throne. He had sheathed his sword and wore the softest expression he had displayed since Jak had come in whole and unharmed. "I would be happy to volunteer. It would be an honor to be the Lady's companion."

Damas sighed in relief. "Done. Torn, you're a mind reader. That's perfect. She'll come to no harm with the captain of my guard to see to her."

Jak half expected the little hellcat to give Torn a sound kick to the balls for his offer. However, she did nothing of the sort. Instead she looked him up and down, head cocked inquisitively to the side like a desert bird. The hint of a blush might have dusted her cheeks when their eyes met. "Thank you, soldier. I'm grateful for your generosity. And you said your name was…?"

"Torn, my lady." The gruff commander actually smiled back.

Jak sat back on his bench and blinked. Well. That was certainly new. Dare he hope that all this was actually going to work out? And that Torn wasn't going soft on them?

"With all due respect, Your Highness, I do think it would be prudent to discuss all this for a moment. Alone, if possible." Ah, there was the Torn they all knew and loved.

Damas nodded. "Agreed. Objections?"

The ottsel leader waved them on. "Of course, of course. We understand this is all happening rather fast. Discuss what you must. Lightning, come back here."

Daxter, who had been slinking after Jak as he rose from the table to follow his father and the others, froze with his fingers barely brushing the hem of the prince's tunic. "But…"

"This is for the _humans_ to discuss. You just stay right here with us."

Jak smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, Dax. I'll be right back."

"When you say 'don't worry,' that usually means I need ta start worrying," the redhead muttered, pulling his hand back with an almost hurt look.

With a jolt Jak remembered Daxter being pulled away from him not so long ago, frightened and alone and told not to worry. Some advice that had been. He swallowed, then reached out to squeeze his friend's shoulder. "For real this time. I mean it. Don't you guys take off without me!"

Daxter smiled, just a little. "Wouldn't dream of it, pal."

- / - / - / - / -

As soon as they were all assembled in a small room off the main hall, everyone began to talk at once.

"Shut up! All of you be quiet," Damas demanded. "One at a time!" There was a general hush. "That's better. Samos, you can go first."

The sage promptly flung himself at the king's feet. "Me, Your Highness! Sacrifice me to the bloodthirsty little beasts! Just don't let them send my darling daughter away! I'll put every one of the furry little monstrosities in collars if anything happens to Keira!"

The girl in question rolled her eyes elegantly. "Oh, Daddy, stop that."

Damas rubbed tiredly at the corners of his eyes. "Disregarding the strange combination of self-sacrifice and violence you just displayed, Samos, I think this is over both of our heads. It seems as though Keria wants to go, and she's a grown woman, now, hard as that is to believe."

"But—but—!"

"How do you think I feel?" the king demanded. "My son is going off with a posse of rodents we'd normally be sending to the stew pot!"

"Dad!" Jak yelled. "Knock it off. I _want_ to go, too. I want to learn what they can teach me." That he wanted to stay by Daxter's side went unsaid.

"You actually believe that nonsense, then, boy?" Erol asked patronizingly.

"I don't see you testing whether or not they could blow Haven off the map, asshole," Jak shot back. "Why shouldn't I believe them?"

"Think about it. They've got a score to settle, little prince. From what I gather, your idiot sage took one of their own. Go with them and you'll be sweeping out their rodent holes in chains before the sun sets."

"Unlike you, not everyone is a backstabber, Erol," Jak gritted. "Daxter is my… he's my friend. I have no reason not to trust him. If it's with him, I'm going. And maybe I'll come back with what it takes to be this big hero."

Keira grabbed his hand, smiling warmly. "You've already got it, Jak. They'll just help you give it a polish."

"Of course he's got it. We have faith in you, Chili Pepper," Sig grinned, giving the prince's shoulder a playful slap that almost knocked him off his feet. "Oops. Sorry."

Torn sighed deeply, then nodded. "As much as it pains me to say it, they're right. You've got what it takes, Jak. I trained you myself, so I'd know. But, between you and me…" He drew the prince closer, lowering his voice as if wary of being overheard. "Those ottsels are more than they're letting on. I think most of us have already gathered that by now. What kind of 'masters' hang back and let their pets do the negotiating? It boggles my mind, but—I think the ottsels might be the real deal."

Jak nodded hesitantly. "I think you're right. But they're good guys, Torn. I think they're just afraid of what it could do to their image if everyone knew what they really were. So they use illusion, or something. Maybe. I guess."

"Smart little weasels. They'll be excellent allies if you play your cards right with Daxter, Jak. But then, you knew that."

The prince blushed and cleared his throat. "Yeah, I know. I won't screw up."

"This still doesn't resolve the issue of my daughter," Samos whined, toying nervously with his glasses. "She can't go out there alone! I insist that someone from Spargus go with her!"

"What about Tess, Daddy? I bet she would go with me if I asked. We could have a real adventure together, and then I wouldn't be alone."

"Tess? Tess…" The sage tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Oh, your blonde servant girl?"

"She's not my servant; she's my best friend besides Jak!" Keira cried indignantly. "We explore the city together all the time! Plus, she's great with weapons. With both her and Erol, a tumbleweed wouldn't dare touch me."

Damas nodded. "Done. The sooner we get all this straightened out the sooner the Haven troops can leave, and the sooner that volatile wall of energy gets taken down from around my city. No one has anything else they'd like to say before we're back in audience with the furry ones? Speak now, if you do."

No one did, though Samos looked less than pleased about the whole thing.

"Good. Let's go. Jak, if you're really set on going with these creatures, you'd best run up and get some of your things. Gods only know how long you'll be gone."

It was a sound suggestion, and with a nod Jak ran from the room. He was more excited by now than anything. An adventure with his friend lay ahead! For the first time since his early childhood he would go beyond the desert, and like Keira he was entirely thrilled by the prospect.

Upon entering his rooms, Jak found that someone had managed to get in and clean them. The bed was made, the balcony doors were shut, and the rocks all over the floor had been removed. He was glad; it would be weird to hare off into the blue knowing that his little corner of the universe had been left a mess.

It took no time at all for him to stuff a pack with extra clothes. He already had his cloak and his sword, and the only mismatched armor he ever wore was already on his body. He wouldn't have to take much. Looking around the room one last time, though, Jak spotted something out of place.

In the corner, mostly covered by the sweep of the bed curtains, was Daxter's broken slave collar. The gold glinted as Jak picked it up, turning it over in his hands. How much things had changed in the span of just a few days. After a moment of thought he slipped the mangled metal ring over his hand and up his arm, where it fit neatly over his bicep like any other shiny, frivolous ornament. Then, without looking back, he headed for the throne room.

- / - / - / - / -

There was a buzz of activity when Jak reappeared. The general mood seemed to be much improved. He had even passed a few servants on the way down, who had come out of hiding to investigate their strange guests from the shadows in the halls around the throne room. Jak smiled as he stepped around a kitchen boy gawking at the tall, shining figures near the wall, while the little girl next to him gasped with delight at the ottsels conversing animatedly among themselves.

Daxter noticed his friend's return almost immediately. His ears went up and a relieved grin rushed onto his face as Jak walked over with his pack in tow. "Took ya long enough, big guy! I was thinkin' ya fell asleep somewhere again."

"Got worried I wasn't coming, huh?" Jak teased.

"Me, worried? Ha! Sure, pal. I knew you'd be here, because I also happen ta know that you find me irresistible."

Jak chuckled. "You bet, Dax."

Off to one side, Samos was lecturing Keira and her friend Tess.

"Listen, girls, I want you to stick together at all times, you hear me? No wandering around alone, no talking to odd men, no taking candy from strangers, no nothing! I want you to write as often as possible—send a letter with anyone passing through. And I'll come visit soon, don't you worry!" The old man looked to be choking back tears.

"Of course, Daddy. Don't worry so much." Keira smiled fondly, stooping a bit to hug her father. "We'll be fine, won't we, Tess?"

The bubbly blonde nodded enthusiastically. "Like, wow, Keira! We're going to have so much fun! I can't wait to see what Haven is like! I hear they have all kinds of technology there. Maybe I can get some tips on making my weapons better!"

"I know! I'm hoping I can get a workshop set up and start working on some machines there! I just know there are better ways to get around than leaper lizards and flut fluts, and if I can just perfect my zoomer machine, I—"

"You're not taking this seriously!" Samos yelled, flailing his staff.

Daxter nodded their direction in amusement. "Somebody's got his panties in a pinch. Hey… that blonde's kinda cute."

"You're kind of sweet on blondes, aren't you? Well, don't even think about it," Jak warned with a grin. "Handle the one you've got first."

"Oh, I think I'll be able ta handle ya just fine, smart guy. With a little more practice first, of course."

Slowly the scattered groups began to come together near the throne. Samos and the girls, already packed and chattering happily, came to stand near Erol, who looked at his new charges with both amusement and trepidation. Torn and Ashelin, who had been talking quietly in the patch of eco-colored sunlight beneath one of the high windows, drifted over, shoulder to shoulder. Damas and Sig halted their conversation as Jak, Daxter, and the three ottsels rounded out the party.

"I suppose this is goodbye, then," Damas mused, looking around the motley assemblage. "Temporarily, of course. Jak, Keira, do us proud. You represent Spargus now. I'll expect to hear good things when you come back."

"You'll hear good things long before that, Your Highness," the ottsel leader observed cheerfully, slowly beginning to rotate his small staff in an almost hypnotic pattern. "I have a feeling they'll stay in touch better than you think. And have no fear for your young ladies, all of you. We'll be… monitoring the situation, let's say. We have our subtle ways."

"Noted," Erol said dryly. "Let's be on our own way, then. I'd like to get the army packed and marching by sundown. The sooner we tell Praxis what's happened, the sooner I quit wondering just how badly he'll react. If you would kindly lower that wall of eco, furry ones?"

"It'll fall when you get to the edge. So no funny business with those troops of yours, man." The lanky ottsel raised a hand tin farewell. "Later days, Keira. Take care of yourself. And hey, next time we run into each other you've gotta finish that shoulder rub you started, lady. You've got some wicked awesome hands."

Keira laughed, shouldering her pack and tool kit. "You bet, Surfer."

"You're on first name basis?" Jak asked incredulously as she turned to him.

"Hey, we had to make some kind of conversation while we waited for you and Daxter to get back." Her mock frown turned into a familiar smile as she threw her arms around his neck. "I'll miss you, Jak. Take care. You too, Daxter! Make sure he learns a lot from you guys!"

"No prob. He'll do great. Not as great as me, but still pretty great."

Jak chuckled and let her go. "I'll work hard, I promise. See you soon, Keira."

With one last hug and kiss for Samos, who looked likely to swoon, Keira grabbed Tess by the hand and ran to Erol's side with a cheerful grin. He shrugged, almost philosophic, and pulled on his gloves. Jak watched their backs as they walked down the passage, around a corner, and out of sight.

"She'll be fine, Jak." Daxter nudged him with a bony elbow. "Pops won't let anything happen to her. He knows it'll be war from this side if Praxis tried somethin', and stoppin' a war is exactly what this is about."

"I know. She's a little terror, too. She'd be more likely to shatter someone's skull than be a victim."

"Raised around here with you bloodthirsty types, I believe it."

Their voices had softened as they stood so close. Damas and the ottsels were talking again. Torn, Sig, and even Ashelin chimed in intermittently. As the boys watched a small gleam of eco spun off from the elder ottsel's staff, rotating into an ever larger mass of swirling energy. Jak watched it with interest.

"That's a portal he's makin', big guy. That's how they got into the palace this morning and how we're headin' out. They're pretty fun ta play with." Daxter's hand was hovering somewhere around Jak's own, their arms brushing. "This is gonna be so great, Jak. We'll have a ball together. You'll love where we live. It's cushy, and green, and there's flowers and trees and a little lake we can swim in and—hey. What is that?"

"What's what?"

"What is that thing on your arm?" The redhead frowned, poking at the collar around Jak's bicep. "It's that damn collar that was on me, isn't it? I thought you threw that disgusting thing away!"

"Yeah, yeah, I did," Jak hastily tried to explain himself. "I found it up in my room. Don't worry, it's not going to touch you or anything anymore. I just thought I'd hold onto it."

"Why keep it at all? It's worthless now, and it is also my Most Hated Object Ever, so it would be real great if you'd chuck it out the window or bury it in a hole or somethin'."

Jak's ears fell. "Oh. Okay. I was just holding onto it because… I don't know. Maybe to remind myself how much better things could have been if I hadn't tried to treat you like my pet all those years. Definitely to remind myself to treat _everyone _with respect, no matter what they seem like at first glance." He rotated the gold ring around his arm ruefully. "But if you want me to get rid of it, I will. I totally understand why you hate it."

Daxter had gone quiet. He looked a little stunned. "Jak?"

"Yeah?"

"Never mind what I said. Keep the thing, fer now. I have an idea what we can do with it. And in the meantime… I know what you can do ta make it up to me for the slave-boy pet business."

"What?" Jak asked softly, eager to please as Daxter stepped forward.

Near the newly-formed portal, the ottsels and humans were making their final farewells. The ottsel leader held up a friendly hand, and Damas knelt to shake it with a small smile on his face.

"Take care of my son, if you would. He's got a bit of an attitude, and he can be a slacker, but he's a good boy. He'll be a fine ruler someday, Precursors willing."

"You can be sure they are willing, Your Highness," the ottsel chuckled. "Quite willing indeed. Well! We had best be getting along. Are we ready, boys?" The other ottsels nodded, stepping up to the portal.

"Jak, come say goodbye to your father!" Torn called, looking around for his errant charge with a frown. "Jak? Now where have you—oh my gods."

Everyone turned and stared.

Jak had lifted Daxter almost off his feet, arms hugging the redhead's torso tightly. Daxter's hands had disappeared into emerald-golden hair, petting and clutching as the two kissed fiercely, as if the very polarity of the earth held them together. Oblivious to everyone and everything else, they were in a world of their own.

"Oh, my… well… goodness," the elder ottsel sputtered, wide-eyed. "I didn't quite realize that… er, that is, that they… the Prophesy was rather vague on just HOW close our kits would be, I suppose—"

"What are they doing?" Dummy asked confusedly, pulling up his cap for the first time to get a better look.

Surfer immediately pushed it back down. "Nothing you need to worry about, dude. Trust me."

Damas clapped a hand over his eyes, hanging his head in deepest resignation. Blushing, Ashelin looked down at her boots. Sig, grinning like an idiot, looked up at the windows.

"Disgraceful," Samos tutted petulantly. "Just disgraceful."

Torn coughed loudly, red in the face. "A-hem!"

With a start, Jak and Daxter pulled apart. They stared for a long moment before both began to chuckle helplessly.

"What?" Jak grinned meekly as Daxter laughed. "He started it."

- / - / - / - / -

"I want a grape!"

"Of course. Here you go." Jak dutifully lowered the cluster of fruit so that Daxter, with his head in the older boy's lap, could bite one off.

The sun was warm, but the bower Daxter had chosen in the corner of the stone courtyard, overgrown with flowering plants and trees, was pleasantly shady. Jak was comfortable in the knee-length loincloth he wore. It was no hotter in the ottsels' jungle refuge than it had been in the desert, but the humidity was stifling sometimes. Jak lifted a hand to wipe his brow. The golden cuff around his wrist sparkled brilliantly in a stray sunbeam slanting though the growth around them.

The days had seemed to pass in a blur. It was hard for the prince to believe that he had already been living with Daxter and the ottsels for over a month. They had been incredibly kind to him in every way—he felt as if he were almost a part of their little family, and Daxter had assured him that that was the way he was supposed to feel. It was… nice.

"Jak?" A hand slipped up to tug at the green-blonde's arm, Daxter's matching cuff gleaming in the light.

Jak chuckled, reaching into the bowl beside him. "Another? You better sit up if you're going to keep eating these things. You'll choke."

"Yeah, yeah." The redhead sat up, stuck his tongue out at Jak, and then opened his mouth. Jak obligingly popped another grape into it. "Y'know, big guy, I could totally get used ta this. You can stay here forever. I won't mind, I promise."

Jak laughed. "I'm sure you wouldn't. But I know a few people that would. I have a kingdom to inherit, you know."

"Yeah, I know." The redhead, who still spent infinitely more time as a redhead than as an ottsel, rolled his eyes and sighed. "Can't blame a guy fer tryin'." He scooted closer until he was leaning against the prince on their little stone bench. "Jak?"

"Hmm?"

"What if Keira really does fall fer that Erol guy? She might wanna stay in Haven forever workin' with her machines and stuff. What'll you do then?"

"I suppose I'll have to talk some other woman into helping me rule a kingdom and raise a kid. Why?" Jak fondly petted a hand through red hair as Dax leaned his head on a tanned shoulder.

Coquettishly Daxter ran a finger up Jak's arm, lightly tickling the fine hairs there. "Well, I was just thinkin'. You don't really hafta do that. I'll help ya run the kingdom. It'll be fun! Pops says we're supposed to stay together so the humans will be more in tune with the planet and yadda yadda yadda. So you don't need a lady at all, see?"

"Oh, really. And what about a kid to carry on the kingdom of Mar after me?"

Daxter smiled brightly. "I can do that, too. How hard can kids be?"

Jak laughed helplessly. "Daxter, you do know that human males can't have children by themselves, right? A woman has to be involved somewhere. That's just how it goes."

"Oh." The redhead frowned. "Well, how about the next ottsel that's made, we take him and make him our kit like Pops did me?"

"Listen. I'll make you a deal. You can turn yourself into a human, right? Well, figure out how you and me can have a kid of our own that looks human, and I swear I will never flirt with anybody else ever again." Enjoying the teasing, Jak pulled his friend closer to ruffle his hair further. "Sound like a plan?"

"Totally!"

"Shake on it?" the prince asked, still grinning.

"Heck no." Reaching quickly up, startling the green-blonde in the process, Daxter grabbed him by the ears and pulled him down, nose to nose. "Kiss on it!"

And Jak did as he was told.

- / - / - / - / -

The End

**o o o o o o**

(2nd)AN: Don't let them fool you, lolling around making the kissy face at each other. Ottsel Leader is actually working their tails off. They just ran off here for some alone time. Slackers.

There WILL be an extra little epilogue over on adult fan fiction dot net. Yep, there will be a love scene. I can't resist by this point. They're just too cute together.

Outtakes!

- / - / - / - / -

Damas: You can't take Jak! He's my one accomplishment in life!

Ottsels: …

Damas: Yes, alright, I realize how pathetic that sounds. But to be fair, Samos was about to say the same thing.

Samos: Hey!

- / - / - / - / -

Torn: I would be honored to be Miss Ashelin's escort.

Ashelin: Well, at least someone in this place has manners. *primps*

Erol: Don't be fooled, man. She wears spiked boots and likes to hit me!

Jak: Oh, well. They'll be in good company.

Torn: (smacks Jak)

- / - / - / - / -

Torn: Oh my God, they're making out! My eyes! I'm blind! Sig, I'm blind! Do something!

Sig: If you're blind, can I have your real cool sunglasses?

Damas: (to ottsel elder) If Jak pulls that crap around you guys, please. Don't hesitate to turn the hose on him.

- / - / - / - / -

Jak: Uh, Dax, you do realize that you can only make babies with a man and a woman.

Dax: Doesn't mean we can't practice! Now drop your pants.

- / - / - / - / -

Jak: Look, I'm very flattered you'd want to share a kid with me, but I doubt you'd want to turn yourself into a human girl and actually do the job, am I right?

Dax: …

Jak: I don't like it when you ponder.

Dax: Would I be a pretty girl? *hopeful eyes*

Jak: *facepalm*

- / - / - / - / -


End file.
